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The Race 

for the 

Emperor’s Cup 

BY 

PAUL EVE STEVENSON 

If 

Author of “A “Deep JVdter Voyage" and “By IVay of Cape Horn” 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 



NEW YORK 

THE RUDDER PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1907 



_ . ..— 

USKAHYof CONGRESS 

Two Cooles Received 


OCT 


90 r 


4 Copyright Entry 
Of 2<-t 

CLASS 4 XKc,, No. 
!$5 
COPY B. 


Copyright 1907 

BY 

PAUL EVE STEVENSON 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



Press of 

Thomson & Co. 
New York 








'flto t|je SDottot of tfje Cup 
Umpmal S^ajeatp MMIliam M 
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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction . ix 

A Short History of Each Boat. 17 


CHAPTER I 

Journal of Ailsa. 33 

CHAPTER II 

Heligoland Race. 87 

CHAPTER III 

Kiel Week. 115 

CHAPTER IV 

The Logs. 137 


Summary of the Race. 198 

Positions and Daily Runs. 201 









































































































































































































LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

His Imperial Majesty William II, Ger¬ 
man Emperor. Frontispiece 

Meteor . Facing ix ^ 

The Emperor's Cup. ij / 

Ailsa under Sea Rig. . 41^ 

Atlantic . 49 S 

Hamburg . 57^ 

Valhalla . 65 ' 

Endymion . 73 

Hildegrade . 81 

Sunbeam . 89 ✓ 

Fleur-de-Lys . 97 / 

Utowana . 105 ✓ 

Thistle . 120 

Apache . 129 ^ 

Iduna . 145 

Komet . 153 


















LINES AND SAIL PLAN 


Atlantic .. 
Hamburg .. 
Valhalla .. 
Endymion . , 
Hildegrade . 
Fleur-de-Lys 

Ailsa. 

Utowana ... 
Thistle 
Apache .... 


PAGE 
... 212 
... 213 
... 214 
... 215 
... 2l6 
... . 217 
2l8, 219 
. . . 220 
. . . 221 
... 222 


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INTRODUCTION 


If we except the brig Cleopatra’s Barge, of 
Salem, Massachusetts, which crossed the North 
Atlantic in the early part of 1817, returning to 
her home port in October of the same year, with 
her owner Captain George Crowninshield on 
board, after a Summer passed in the Mediter¬ 
ranean, the first American yacht to sail across 
the Western Oceai? was the illustrious America. 
She left New York on June 21, 1857, and three 
weeks and eight hours later she anchored at 
Havre. 

In 1866 the small sloop Alice, only 48 feet on 
the water-line, crossed the Atlantic under com¬ 
mand of Captain Arthur H. Clark, arriving at 
the Needles 19 days out from Nahant. There 
have been one or two other voyages across 
made by yachts of lesser distinction; but the 
first actual race from continent to continent was 
sailed in the Winter of the same year, 1866, 
when the Henrietta, owned by James Gordon 
Bennett, won a triangular race by arriving first at 



X 


Introduction 


the Needles in 13 days, 21 hours and 55 minutes. 
Her competitors were the Vesta, owned by Pierre 
Lorillard, and the Fleetwing, the property of 
Franklin Osgood. There were but 40 minutes 
separating the second boat, the Vesta, from the 
Fleetwing, while the Vesta sailed a course 35 
miles longer than the latter. This great trial of 
skill and courage liegan on December nth, at 
the outset of the wildest Atlantic weather, and 
each owner pledged himself to the extent of 
$30,000, making a sweepstakes of $90,000. 

It was a very sportsmanlike thing to do, to 
send these little boats away in December. They 
were indeed small vessels in which to engage the 
ferocities of Western Ocean Winter weather, 
for the largest of them, the Vesta, was but no 
feet over all. The Henrietta, commanded by 
Samuel Samuels, the master of the Dreadnought, 
the “Wild Boat of the Atlantic,” and the Vesta 
both came out of the fierce conflict unscathed. 
But while running off before a heavy gale, on 
December 19th, a sea boarded the Fleetwing at 
the main rigging, sweeping the decks fore and 
aft and carrying six seamen overboard out of 
the cockpit. It was impossible to recover the men 
in such weather, and, weighted down with sea 
boots and oilers, they vanished under a crest and 



Introduction 


xi 


were not seen again. It was simply the work of 
a chance sea, for the yacht was making good 
weather of it at the time. 

The next race over the ocean that divides 
the Old and New Worlds was sailed between 
the Dauntless, owned by James Gordon Bennett, 
and the Cambria, owned by James Ashbury. The 
start took place on July 4th from Daunt’s Rock, 
the Cambria finishing first at Sandy Hook in 23 
days, 5 hours, 17 minutes, the Dauntless arriving 
1 hour and 43 minutes later. The latter held the 
lead until the Georges Banks were reached, when 
a slant of wind, favoring the English vessel, 
permitted her to finish first. It was agreed be¬ 
fore the start that the Cambria should sail against 
the America for the celebrated Cup, an event 
that was consummated shortly after her arrival, 
with the well-known sequel. 

The last race across the Atlantic was in 1887, 
when the Coronet defeated the Dauntless in a 
contest that started at Bay Ridge and ended at 
Queenstown, for $10,000 a side. The former won 
after a superb struggle in the excellent time of 
14 days, 20 hours and 30 minutes. Both yachts 
encountered very severe weather, and, being of 
the type that endures hard driving, both boats 
were rushed through it without any other 



Xll 


Introduction 


thought than to arrive first. The start of the 
race, on March 13th, was sufficient to insure 
enough bad weather to gratify almost any ama¬ 
teur. During the last three days, the Daunt¬ 
less survived probably as heavy gales as a yacht 
was ever raced through. For seventy-two hours 
nothing but cold food of the most portable sort 
could be eaten on board. 

The suggestion of the German Emperor for 
a transatlantic cup race in 1905 seems to have 
been a sort of inspiration, for it received such sub¬ 
stantial support that in a short time eleven yachts 
had agreed to toe the line on the morning of 
May 17th. Although an almost preposterous dis¬ 
crepancy existed between the water-line length 
of the Fleur-de-Lys of 87 feet and the Valhalla, a 
massive ship-rigged deep-water vessel of 240 feet, 
a handicap was manifestly impossible. It was 
to be a contest in which fortune was to figure to 
a very large extent. If the winds were Easterly, 
then the fore and afters would have the better of 
it, in all probability. If Westerly and of sufficient 
vigor, the square-riggers would undoubtedly lead 
the way into the English Channel. In the end, 
the Atlantic, a fore and after, finished first, ahead 
of the giant Valhalla, in spite of two or three 
days of heavy following winds; while the Sun- 



Introduction 


xm 


beam, square-rigged forward, a rugged, blue 
water cruiser, tight and staunch, though of an 
older type, defeated the fore and after, Utowana. 
So the impracticability of a handicap is at once 
apparent. 

The element of danger was largely dis¬ 
cussed up to the very finish of the race. 
That a certain amount of risk was present 
there can be no doubt. There is always more 
or less danger at sea. Indeed it may be said with 
truth that all contests which call into action hu¬ 
man courage, endurance, self-reliance and the 
desire to excel in any sport that is generally in¬ 
cluded in the adjective “manly,” are charged 
with danger to a greater or less degree. Even 
croquet numbers its victims—unfortunates who 
have stood ’n the range of a beheaded, flying 
mallet. Hunting, steeplechasing and other out¬ 
door sports calling for courage and nerve have 
claimed hundreds of martyrs. Ping pong alone 
stands guiltless of murder.. And ping pong is no 
more. 

Therefore, if accidents had occurred to mar 
the great race of 1905, it would not have been 
astonishing. Indeed, considering one or two of 
the entrants it was more surprising than not to 
find that some one was not injured in the handling 



XIV 


Introduction 


of the vessels, either by flying blocks or other 
gear about the crowded decks or by a false step 
at night, or in the violent weather experienced 
at “the Comer.” The crew of each yacht num¬ 
bered on an average about thirty men. At least 
three hundred persons took part in the race, and 
assisted in working the different vessels through 
a gale of wind, with the knowledge in the mind 
of each sailing master that if he was not driving 
hard, some one else astern or ahead of him was; 
and yet the most serious mishap was the fracture 
of a couple of ribs. Ocean racing will ever 
remain a sport in which skulks the phantom of 
disaster. But as long as men live, in whose 
souls is born the love of the heroic as associated 
with the deep sea, so long will such contests as 
the transatlantic yacht race of 1905 receive the 
fealty of the yachtsman whose greatest enjoy¬ 
ment is found when his hundred-fathom lead¬ 
line seeks in vain the ocean’s floor. 


Garden City, L. I., June, 1907. 


P. E. S. 



A SHORT HISTORY OF 
EACH BOAT 












THE EMPEROR’S CUP 

i 










































A Short History of Each Boat 


17 


ATLANTIC 

The Atlantic is probably the fastest and most 
advanced type of auxiliary yacht in the world. 
She is modern in every sense of the word—in 
youth, appearance, and fittings. No other aux¬ 
iliary has ever approached her in speed by the 
wind, and her design permits her to lie very 
nearly as close as an ordinary racing schooner. 
But while designed for speed, ocean cruising 
was the most important consideration, and 
in the Kaiser’s race she was the favorite from 
the beginning. She easily outfooted every com¬ 
petitor and finished nearly twenty-four hours 
ahead of the second boat. The Atlantic was de¬ 
signed by William Gardner, and built by the 
Townsend & Downey Co. at Shooter Island, New 
York, in 1903, for Wilson Marshall of the New 
York Yacht Club. Immediately after fitting out 
she made a voyage to the West Indies and in 
1904 she participated in the outside races and the 
squadron runs of the New York Yachc Club 
cruise, winning both the Cape May and Brentons 



18 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 

Reef cups, indicating an extraordinary speed 
when reaching. It is an interesting fact that 
the Atlantic was the only centerboard boat in the 
ocean race, though her draught is such that she 
is practically a keel vessel, with but little actual 
use for the board. She was sailed in the race by 
Charles Barr. As is well known, she finished 
first. 




A Short History of Each Boat 


19 


HAMBURG 

The only German entry in the race. She was 
originally the Rainbow and was designed by 
George L. Watson and built by Henderson at 
Glasgow for C. L. Orr Ewing, in 1900. She 
is now the property of a German syndicate headed 
by Adolf Tietjens. The Hamburg is a large two- 
masted schooner, nearly 160 feet over all, with 
exceedingly fine lines, and in her Clyde races she 
showed great speed on almost every point of 
sailing. Many judges of well-known ability in 
such matters selected her as the probable winner 
of the ocean race. She was the second boat to 


arrive. 



20 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


VALHALLA 

The only ship-rigged yacht in the race, and of 
heroic proportions, being of approximately 1,100 
tons. She was designed by W. C. Storey and 
built by Ramage & Ferguson at Leith, Scotland, 
for James Laycock, in 1892, She is owned by 
the Earl of Crawford, and with a crew of 100 
men, has visited every harbor of importance in 
the world. Her position at the finish was third. 



A Short History of Each Boat 


21 


ENDYMION 

Few living yachts hold a better all-round record 
than the two-master Endymion. She came from 
the boards of Tams, Lemoine & Crane 
and was built by George Lawley & Son in South 
Boston, in 1900, for George Lord Day. She is 
now owned by George Lauder of the New York 
Yacht Club and holds the record for yachts from 
Sandy Hook to the Needles, having made the 
passage in 13 days, 20 hours. She is a power¬ 
ful vessel, built for the express purpose of off¬ 
shore work, and may be taken as the represen¬ 
tative type of that ever-growing class of blue 
water yachts. She is of composite construction 
and entered the Kaiser’s race under the flag 
of the Indian Harbor Yacht Club, of which Mr. 
Lauder was at that time Commodore. Hers was 
the fourth place. 



22 


The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


HILDEGARDE 

The Hildegarde is a two-masted schooner de¬ 
signed by A. S. Chesebrough and constructed by 
the Harlan & Hollingsworth Co. at Wilmington, 
Del., in 1897, for the late George W. Weld. She 
is now the property of Edward R. Coleman, who 
entered her in the ocean race under the flag of 
the Corinthian Yacht Club of Philadelphia. She 
is a very powerful boat and has made one or 
more successful passages to the West Indies. She 
was the fifth yacht to arrive. 



A Short History of Each Boat 


23 


SUNBEAM 

By far the most famous yacht in the ocean 
race was the Sunbeam, owned by Lord Brassey of 
the Royal Yacht Squadron. She was built in 
1874 by Bowdler & Chaffers, at Seacombe, Eng¬ 
land, from the design of St. Clare Byrne, and 
in all of her long and honorable life she has 
never had an owner other than Lord Brassey. 
She has three or four times circumnavigated 
the world, through the Straits of Magellan and 
around Agulhas. On board of her were written 
four journals that still remain the standard of 
their kind: “Sunshine and Storm in the East,” 
“A Voyage in the Sunbeam,” “In the Trades, 
the Tropics and the Roaring Forties” and 
“The Last Voyage,” all by Lady Brassey. In 
the thirty-three years of her life Sunbeam has 
sailed more than 300,000 miles, an average of 
about 10,000 miles a year—a record that can¬ 
not be approached by any other yacht in the 
world for so long a period. The Sunbeam is 
filled with rare objects of art presented to Lord 




24 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


Brassey by the sultans of the Far East; and it 
was with these actually priceless articles on 
board that she raced across the Atlantic for the 
Kaiser’s Cup. Sunbeam’s rig is a three-masted 
topsail auxiliary schooner. Originally her rig 
was that of a fore and aft schooner, fore topsail 
and topgallant yards having been added for her 
first circumnavigating voyage in 1876. She 
crossed the line in the sixth place. 




A Short History of Each Boat 


25 


FLEUR-DE-LYS 

This vessel had the distinction of being the 
smallest entry in the ocean race. She was built 
in Bath, Maine, from designs by Edward Bur¬ 
gess, in 1890; and she has the reputation of being 
the strongest built boat ever turned out of that 
famous shipbuilding town on the Kennebec. Like 
Endymion, the Fleur-de-Lys was constructed 
chiefly for ocean work, and, under the ownership 
of Dr. Lewis Stimson, has made several voyages 
of protracted length, one of them to the Medi¬ 
terranean. She finished seventh. 



26 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


AILSA 

Designed by Fife and built by A. & J. Inglis, 
at Glasgow, Scotland, in 1895, for Major 
A. Barclay Walker, who at that time was promi¬ 
nent in the ninety-foot racing class in Great 
Britain. Her first appearance was in the 
Mediterranean races in the Spring of 1897. 
On certain points of sailing she showed 
remarkable speed and she was successful in 
several events. As an all-round boat, however, 
she did not please her first owner, who sold her 
in 1897 to F. B. Jameson, of Glasgow, who 
changed her from cutter to yawl. She was more 
successful under this rig than when a cutter; but 
in the Spring of 1901 she was sold to Henry S. 
Redmond of the New York Yacht Club, and dur¬ 
ing the following two years she was raced against 
the Vigilant, with considerable success, winning 
the Astor Cup for single masted vessels and 
yawls off Newport in 1892. She was then laid 
up and was not put into commission until entered 
in the ocean race. She was the eighth yacht to 
arrive. 



A Short History of Each Boat 


27 


UTOWANA 

The Utowana, a three-masted schooner, was 
built by Naefie & Levy at Philadelphia, from the 
boards of J. Beavor Webb, in 1891, for W. West 
Durant. She was subsequently sold to Allison 
V. Armour of the New York Yacht Club, who 
has made nearly twenty voyages across the Atlan¬ 
tic in her, and while in English waters in 1902 
she won the Channel race from the Isle of Wight 
to Cherbourg, to the Eddystone and thence to 
Cowes. Under the ownership of Mr Armour 
she has cruised a distance of more than 100,000 
miles. She finished ninth. 



28 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


THISTLE 

This two-masted schooner was laid down in 
the draughting room of H. C. Wintringham and 
built by the Townsend & Downey Co. at 
Shooter Island in 1901. She is owned by Robert 
E. Tod, who navigated the Thistle across the 
ocean in the race. Mr. Tod is known as an ar¬ 
dent supporter of ocean yacht racing and has 
made many long cruises in his vessel. She was 
the tenth boat at the Lizard.. 




A Short History of Each Boat 


29 


APACHE 

The only bark-rigged vessel in the race, the 
Apache was designed and built by J. Reid & Co., 
at Glasgow, Scotland, in 1890. She is now owned 
by Edmund Randolph of the New York Yacht 
Club, and is one of the handsomest auxiliaries on 
the coast. She is an ideal boat of her description 
for long passages; and, as the White Heather, 
made a name for herself on distant voyages. She 
was the eleventh boat to finish. 
















































































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CHAPTER I 


JOURNAL OF AILS A 

Was the thing exactly sensible, anyhow? It 
was the North Atlantic. That the month was 
May and therefore not far removed from Sum¬ 
mer was true. But it was the North Atlantic. 
Not the Pacific, nor the Indian, nor even the 
Southern Ocean, pesty as the latter is. Just 
simple, plain North Atlantic—the vilest ocean 
for weather on the planet, right through the four 
seasons, round the zodiac, where as pleasant 
zephyrs often fan the voyager in January, as dour 
Nor’westers harry him in July. And the little 
Ailsa, too, a “crazy-eyed racing machine”; was 
she the sort of craft for the temptations of the 
Atlantic? We were not going to sea this time 
in a two-thousand-ton wind-jammer built to cheat 
the Horn itself, a big, husky brute, almost in¬ 
destructible, but a fragile, composite, little ninety- 
foot racer, with a single mast (if you didn’t 
count the sapling in the stern), whose business it 
would be to lug the canvas in all weathers, 
whether she liked it or not Come gale or gentle 


34 


The Race for the Emperor 9 s Cup 


breeze sail must be carried, for this was not to 
be a loitering cruise. “The old basket’ll fall 
apart before you turn the Corner,” quoth the 
Men of Comfort; and shook their salty locks 
and shivered their deep-sea timbers. 

But wouldn’t that be just the spice of it all, 
this three-thousand-mile dash across rough 
water in a ninety-footer? Anybody can go to 
sea in a big ship built to buck big against the 
rage of wind and water; but the chances offered 
are few of going down to the sea in a spoon¬ 
faced racer as frail as an egg compared with the 
big fellows. Besides, what say the sages? “A 
small vessel well found and handled makes 
better weather of it than the larger ones that 
cannot take two seas at once.” Well, well, we 
should test that on the voyage over; and a bit of 
water on deck did not matter anyway; so, when 
we were asked to lend our presence on board 
Ailsa, it did not take us long to decide. 

It was a sombre and chilling day, the 17th of 
May, 1905, that found eleven crack racing yachts 
waltzing about Sandy Hook lightship for the 
start of the Kaiser’s Cup Race. An Easterly 
breeze was blowing in over the bar, and it never 
is a joyful thing to start to sea in a head wind, 
with a lee shore close alongside. But silvery fog 




Journal of Ailsa 


35 


had delayed us a whole day anyhow; and now 
that it had lifted, every one of us, from august 
owner to verdant mess-boy, throughout the fleet, 
felt a savage impulse to get away for the Lizard 
at any cost. 

Certainly no accusation of monotony of build 
could be foisted on the contestants. From ninety 
to thirteen hundred tons we ranged, and from 
tapering yawl to stately ship, with* plenty of 
schooners and a fine bark thrown in for good 
measure. This pleasant variety lent an additional 
interest to the occasion and opened up to the 
veranda or rocking-chair school of navigators an 
exhaustless field for speculation. Thus spake 
these splendid salts: “What possible chance has 
Valhalla in May in a Western Ocean race? The 
rest of ’em’ll lose her* January’s her month.” Yet 
again: “With the head winds she’ll get in May 
near the Channel, Ailsa’ll make the whole fleet 
look like frights. You hear me. I berth Ailsa 
for first place with the weather she’s bound to 
find at this season.” So, having definitely located 
each boat at the finish and agreed upon the only 
type of weather that could possibly prevail in 
the North Atlantic in the late Spring, these mari¬ 
time Solons fell back, with congratulations that 
they were not courting destruction in so unneces- 



36 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


sary a manner. However, a goodly company of 
these cheery fellows came down to see us off and 
had the felicity of watching the Ailsa cross the 
line first, a few seconds ahead of the Hildegarde, 
Atlantic, Hamburg and Endymion. The big 
square-riggers seemed to hang back in the slug¬ 
gish air and went crabbing along for the line as 
though loath to poke their noses out past the 
committee boat. 

Truly, it was a dim, gray sky under which 
we commenced our long dance, but it is also 
within the truth to say that not a single faint¬ 
heart in all the boats sat down to meat that first 
night at sea, with the land fading and fading in 
the West. Enough for the seaman that he is 
again launched upon the trackless ocean, treach¬ 
erous and alluring. What matter the size of 
the boat if she be weatherly? Suppose the ice 
does lurk at the Corner or up on the edge of the 
Banks. Perhaps the fog would shroud us till 
a liner found us. But does the hunter think of 
the next fence or the halfback of the coming 
scrimmage? In heaven’s name, then, let us 
gather and make a mighty meal, for the night fell 
cold and found us under a two-reefed mainsail, 
for the wind had freshened with the setting sun. 
Speculation is abroad on board as to which of 




Journal of Ailsa 


37 


the racers took the Northerly course, skirting the 
Grand Banks and the gravestones of Sable Island, 
and which chose the Southerly or steamer route 
that cuts the 42d parallel on the 50th meridian. 
Many and wondrous bold were the devotees of 
Boreas, who cried with a loud voice asking what 
cared they for the ice, gales and fog of the North¬ 
ern course? This was to be the route for these 
iron souls who scorned the less tranquil zones be¬ 
low ; but eheu! these hardy fellows will follow 
the courses arranged by their sailing-masters, 
and transmigrate into what nearly every yacht 
owner becomes on a race like this—a passenger. 
No doubt a jolly passenger, and one peradventure 
with some latitude, but still, just a passenger. 
When the skipper desires to tack or wear, to 
reef down or shake out, the wisdom of the pas¬ 
senger plays no part in the evolution, though he 
cherishes some little delight in a powerful repe¬ 
tition of the skipper’s commands. In the Ailsa we 
long ago decided that the Southern or more placid 
route would be stormy enough without looking 
for the gales and ice phantoms ten degrees farther 
North; and our aim is to steer an East course 
true for about twelve hundred miles, or straight 
out into the Atlantic, and then make the sharp 
turn to the Northward and sail on the Great 



38 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


Circle i-f feasible to the Channel. The Northerly 
route is shorter by two hundred miles than the 
lower one, for the Circle track there starts at the 
Nantucket lightship and ends at the Scillies, near 
the finish, the Great Arc being actually the 
shortest course over the curved earth, though it 
looks longer on a map or chart. All of us would, 
of course, choose the Northerly track were it not 
for the fog, ice and storms near the Banks. 

Here we are then on our first night steering 
somewhat to the Southward of East, with the 
wind at N.E. by E., and doing moderately well 
in a lump of a sea. The Atlantic and Hamburg 
have stolen into the mist ahead of us and we may 
not sight each other again during the passage. 

May 18th. Lat. 39.44, long. 71,48. Dis¬ 
tance run 98 miles. Average per hour 4 miles. 
All plain sail. Rain to clearing. Moderate 
Westerly winds. 

Humanly speaking, we three aft ought to 
make a very harmonious compound this passage, 
for all of us know the sea. There is the Navi¬ 
gator, for instance, who has a whole lifetime of 
yachting experiences astern of him and an in¬ 
calculable amount of nautical history and tradition 
seething and hissing about him; there is the 
Artist, living over again the months, not to say 



Journal of Ailsa 


39 


years, passed aboard the naval vessels of the 
earth’s nations, sketching and painting, to men¬ 
tion naught of his experiences with palette and 
brush on Gloucestermen; and finally there comes 
the Scribe, who, with two long, wind-jammer 
voyages to his credit, feels well fortified against 
any exhibition of pelagic wrath. 

Lem Miller, the man in whom reposes the 
responsibility of # conducting us across the 
Western Sea with safety and despatch (with a 
powerful accent on the despatch, no one showing 
much interest in the safety part), is a hardy native 
of North Germany, with an immense pride in 
his adopted land, a small, springy body and a very 
alert mind. The mate, Chris Olstadt, is the only 
Swede in the ship, as lank as a Yankee, but evi¬ 
dently a good seaman, speaking entirely unin¬ 
telligible English with stunning rapidity. The 
second mate is one John Svensen, a Norway man, 
compact, agile, vigilant and muscular—the right 
bower in a close call or a mistake at sea. The cook 
is a subject of King Christian IX., a sample of 
the “majesty of buried Denmark”; the steward 
passes most of his time in congratulating Great 
Britain for having given him birth. “We’re 
’eaded for Gawd’s country now,” he croons. The 
rest of the ship’s company, some score of men 



40 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


(for we are twenty-five all told, and three of 
us aft besides), are all Norwegians, some out 
of big, deep-water-men, just in from Cape Horn 
or the Spice Lands of the East after half a year at 
sea; some out of our racing yachts, and still others 
from the steel meshes of our great buildings—for 
the spiders that weave the metal webs twenty-five 
stories over our heads and the men that bridge 
our greatest rivers are recruited from the sailor 
lads, the boys who whistle at the tempest on the 
yardarm. 

We fell in with rather thick weather during 
the morning, with a low barometer and fore¬ 
boding look aloft and to windward that lasted 
till late in the afternoon, when we had a dazzling 
sunset, though the aneroid still sulked. “By 
heavens, the blue sky, und der glass don’t know 
it,” said the fanciful Lem. Later on the last link 
that bound us to our native shores passed close 
aboard, the steam yacht Oneida, bound back to 
New York after accompanying some of the fleet 
to sea. She scattered gloom through our little 
vessel with the intelligence that she had left 
the Atlantic and Hamburg seventy^five miles 
ahead of us at noon, the Hamburg a little in the 
lead, both boats at full speed, rail under. So, the 
antique game still goes on, England vs. America, 






AILSA UNDER SEA RIG 
















Journal of Ailsa 


4i 


for the yachting supremacy, Watson against 
Gardner; only, this time, instead of a brace of un¬ 
couth monsters, useless save for racing in smooth 
waters, we have a pair of grand, sea-going yachts, 
not built to cheat rules of measurement, but to 
sail races in come gale or calm, either in Long 
Island Sound or in blue water where the sound¬ 
ings of the deep-sea lead are vain. 

Well, we are third, anyhow, at the end of the 
first day and we had the satisfaction of raising 
the good old Sunbeam out of the sea ahead at 
dusk, and together we sped along in the full 
moonlight before a fresh Sou’wester, some two 
miles apart, the old, historic English deep-water 
yacht with three hundred thousand miles of off¬ 
shore cruising to her good name soaring over the 
capering whitecaps with starboard stun’sails out 
—the vessel that has sheltered Gladstone and 
Tennyson and other mighty Britons. 

May 19th. Lat. 39.38, long. 67.17. Dis¬ 
tance run 229 miles; average per hour g l / 2 miles. 
Reefed mainsail; strong S.W. breeze. Clear 
weather. 

The cobalt sky to-day is only exceeded in 
beauty by the cerulean sea, for we are off sound¬ 
ings now and the color of the ocean holds the 
marvelous blue that it assumes only when the 



42 


The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


floor sinks to the graver depths of the open sea. 
The water seems to be full of blueing, with the 
transparency of plate glass; this morning, during 
a light, smooth spell, the rudder pintles showed 
as plainly as through air ten feet below the sur¬ 
face. We are all getting gradually shaken down 
to the life on board, so different in every way from 
shore living, that a couple of days must pass 
before the strong breath of the deep sweeps out 
the cobwebs of the city. Who does not know 
that radiant sense of health after a few days of 
briny air, that splendid vigor that sends the scarlet 
blood spirting through its channels after a week 
in the open sea, and the clear and steady eye? 
By two in the afternoon a splendid flashing 
breeze was rushing up from the Southwest and 
for the rest of the day we did an easy twelve 
knots under every kite with which a racing yacht 
can be smothered, barring the club topsail. How 
many yachtsmen with even years of ocean cruis¬ 
ing to their credit have ever seen a racing 
“ninety” doing twelve nautical miles an hour 
like a steamboat, with her spinnaker boom soar¬ 
ing to the masthead at every heave, as the big, 
crested rollers swing under her, and then smother 
ten feet of the mainsail s clew in the leeward 
roll, and tear it out of the sea crest with a whirl 



Journal of Ailsa 


43 


of foam that harbors for an instant a shimmering 
spray bow? And all this four hundred miles 
from land, straight out in the Atlantic—where 
live the Winter tempests—with the inviolable 
heavens overhead and two thousand fathoms of 
sea beneath the keel. No amount of after gales 
and icy fog can deprive us of the unnamable 
joy of life on this day, with the long, blue 
swells—the perpetuum mobile of the deep— 
rolling with tireless energy into the East, urged 
by the cool stream of the Sou’wester that pours 
the life fluid into our kites. All but skipping 
from sea to sea, lagging a moment in the valleys 
and then carving a path through a crest like 
a scimitar we soared over the following seas; and 
the gaze of all finally turned to that won¬ 
derful spinnaker whose boom dipped now in the 
froth overside, now reared aloft to touch the 
starboard spreader. No device could keep it 
steady in those pendulum rolls, and we could 
but sit and marvel at this great bird, as it were, 
folding and flapping his pelican wings, till in an 
instant a report rang across the deck and the 
big right wing of the creature seemed to wilt 
and fade, while a great thumping alongside 
spelled disaster. Unable to bear the sudden 
strains every few seconds, the spinnaker boom, 



44 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


with an expiring gasp, sprang upward, bending 
like a yew bow and broke into three pieces that 
slapped our broadsides like the flukes of a whale 
as they dropped into the sea, from which with 
some difficulty we plucked them, losing alto¬ 
gether a twenty-foot section that vanished en¬ 
tirely. 

This was our first untoward incident and illus¬ 
trated the tireless driving that usually wins a race 
like this, when sail must be dragged till the last 
minute (and sometimes beyond it), recalling vi¬ 
sions of our China tea clippers of an ancient date, 
which frequently carried away their very top¬ 
gallant-masts in the rush to land the new season’s 
tea first in Boston. It may be advanced that such 
carrying on has not the best judgment behind it 
and that breaking or maiming masts and booms 
and things smells of the hare that lost the race. 
But spars can generally be spliced or repaired 
in some way, and then there is always the chance 
that they may hold together, crowning the lucky 
mariner with unquenchable fame. Be this as it 
may, we were enabled to fish or splice our boom, 
but were obliged to make use of the balloon jib 
topsail in lieu of a spinnaker, as the mutilated 
spar was some twenty feet too short for its old 
draperies. 






Journal of Ailsa 


45 


As evening drew on though and the wind and 
sea both increased somewhat alarmingly, the most 
hopeless driver that ever dismasted his ship 
would have shortened sail on the Ailsa for the 
night, so we got the mainboom inboard and tied 
two reefs in the sail. We have to be very cautious 
and saving with that mainsail and its huge, cigar¬ 
like boom. Schooners that boast two or three 
masts can afford to invite much greater risk; 
but with a yawl that must depend almost en¬ 
tirely on a single big spar, great vigilance is the 
toll demanded of the successful yacht. Cap’n 
Lem’s twenty years in racing yachts have knocked 
many things into his head and this is one of 
them. 

May 20th. Lat. 39.20, long. 63.20. Dis¬ 
tance run 192 miles; hourly average 8 miles. 
Reefed mainsail and storm trysail. Heavy 
Westerly squalls. 

If the entranced reader has ever sought the 
sea and gained its friendship through the deep¬ 
water wind-jammer, which is the only medium 
through which she speaks to man with affection 
and confidence, and if he has run his Easting 
down bound out around Good Hope, he will 
understand when he reads in this day’s journal, 
that the rolling last night nearly equalled that in 



46 The Race for the Emperor’s Cap 


a square-rigger running before it in the Southern 
Ocean. One animated sea for which we were 
not prepared, sprang down the open companion- 
way at two in the morning, and dispensed hu¬ 
midity over the saloon and passageways generally. 
We have no carpets down on the floors this 
voyage though, so it was not a difficult affair to 
mop up the few bucketsful of brine that spattered 
below. But misery indeed for the man whose 
kismet had given him a wide bunk on such a night, 
in which he wallowed and floundered like a 
stranded fish; detestable the hidden delight of the 
human in his allotted thirty-inch bunk, where, 
immovably chocked off with a couple of pillows 
at back and chest, he comfortably harked to his 
comrade’s ravings. 

Such canvas-shifting, such incessant changes 
in sail carrying has seldom been seen out of sight 
of the land as that that took place on the deck 
of our coracle all day. At ten in the forenoon, 
aneroid, sky and sea portended dismal events; 
at noon the wind had let go by half, the sea had 
moderated, the sun smiled through the mist banks 
and the trysail had lost grace and had yielded 
to the towering gaff of the mainsail. Two hours 
later the whole solar system changed again, so 
to speak, and the toggles of the little hempen 



Journal of Ailsa 


47 


triangle once more embraced the lower mast as 
the fussy squalls blew at us from all round the 
compass. Very interesting it was, too, to watch 
the increment of celerity on the part of the crew 
that accompanied each sail shifting that went on 
from time to time during the twenty-four hours, 
till at last they handled the big square of duck 
like the men on a cup defender—by no means 
an easy job in a lop of sea and jumble of 
squalls. The Navigator seemed especially en¬ 
thralled in the maneuvers and watched them 
till darkness almost hid the men, when a deft 
kick on the head from the second mate’s nice, 
new rubber boots as the Navigator sat in the 
companionway (followed by frantic apologies) 
killed his ardor, and, with the rest of us he sought 
the charms of the dinner table. Some of us are 
muttering: “Will the grub hold out like this, 
or will we presently bask in the presence of 
dandyfunk and lobscouse, cracker hash and other 
blue water gastronomic allurements?” For new- 
made soup confronts us each noon, as well as 
salmon steaks and egg sauce, sweetbreads, sizzling 
roasts and plum puddings, all swiftly served and 
silently by the gaunt-jawed Briton whose train¬ 
ing in Albion’s navy has enabled him to disre¬ 
gard an angle of forty-five degrees. The harbor 



48 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


of all our epicurean joys is a portentous refriger¬ 
ator, which, temporarily built into the floor, shares 
most of the saloon area with a hummock of spare 
sails. Ice, why we have enough to fill a morgue; 
and unwholesome thoughts occur to us when the 
white-capped chef uncovers the great zinc trough 
and burrows among the cold and pallid contents. 
Solveless will some mysteries always remain; and 
if the Danish cookman can always mingle his 
viands and seraph smiles as he does now, it is 
not for us to riddle his secret. 

May 21 st. Lat. 39.32, long. 58.46. Dis¬ 
tance run 204 miles. Hourly average &y!> miles. 
All plain sail. Fine Nor’west winds and light 
rain squalls. Sea moderating in afternoon. 

A very beautiful morning followed another 
night of excessive rolling, although the motion 
in this type of vessel is not nearly so quick nor 
violent as we supposed it would be and is much 
less aggravating than that of a square-rigger in 
a heavy sea. We are still a little to the South¬ 
ward of New York and some seven hundred 
miles from Sandy Hook, aiming to pass the 50th 
meridian about seventy-five miles South of the 
West-bound steamer track, in the event of fog 
and ice at the Corner or crossing. A wise con¬ 
gress of steamship owners decided several years 










A 'T'T A ATTTP 





















Journal of Ailsa 


49 


ago to run their mail steamers between New York 
and the Channel parallel and sixty miles apart 
to avoid collisions. A great deal of ice has been 
reported as far South this year as the 39th par¬ 
allel, pushed there by heavy Northers, no doubt, 
right across the track of the twenty-three-knot- 
ters, directly into the ocean boulevard where three 
thousand people dwell in some of the big express 
steamers. 

Far away on the blue horizon just after sun¬ 
rise we sighted the three tall masts of one of our 
noblest competitors lifting and settling on the 
swell—the Utowana—who, so 'tis said, can smell 
her way across the Western Ocean after scores 
of thousands of miles of its smooth and stormy 
waters. There was plenty of sea left, too, in the 
early morning from last night's heavy winds, and 
some of the big, bounding ones, royal blue and 
dazzling, impaled themselves on the jigger bump¬ 
kin over the stern; and the breeze that blew across 
them hung a fringe on the neck of each. Certainly 
last night the devil was adrift on the deep sea— 
huge, menacing squalls in every point; a 
choking, heavy wind; nasty, breaking seas; five 
points of yawing at every heave; and the helms¬ 
man, a ghastly image in the binnacle light, 
sweating to foil the jibe on the crest of a roller. 




50 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


This is a wretched condition, but a helpless one 
when racing, when you must carry sail to make 
the speed and when the over-canvassed yacht, 
with the Satanic mainboom in charge of the deck, 
teeters on the edge of a sea and hesitates which 
way she will go. But then, how the memory of 
all this fades when the stars come out a few 
hours later and the yacht steadies herself against 
the clear Nor*wester! 

May 22d. Lat. 39.40, long. 55.20. Dis¬ 
tance run 144 miles; hourly average 6 miles. 
All plain sail. Moderate Southeasterly winds 
and smooth sea. 

At daylight on this matchless, blue morning 
we sighted the present holder of the record 
from Sandy Hook to the Needles, Endymion, she 
of the smooth-flowing name and nimble heels. 
All day long we held each other, the powerful 
ocean cruiser, built to scuffle with the elements, 
and the slender low-sided racer framed up for 
nothing worse than a few hours’ thrash in the 
chops of the Channel—we two, the cormorant 
and the gull, sailed abreast throughout this 
sunny day a few miles apart, with starboard 
tacks aboard. The winds were light and favored 
first one and then the other, till finally we took 
a freshening gust first from the Southward and 



Journal of Ails a 


5i 


gradually stole away from our illustrious rival, 
Ailsa steering like a knockabout on the wind, 
her wheel like the balance of a watch. 

The Navigator has made the most astonishing 
advances with his sines and secants and can work 
up his sights now without any errors at all, 
though lack of experience blocks, as yet, an equal 
accuracy in taking the sun, which will no doubt 
be smoothed out before the passage is many days 
older. Bringing down accurately the heavenly 
bodies to a shimmering horizon with a sextant 
aboard of a vessel visited with chorea, is not 
given to many mortals. 

The Artist, Master of Tints and Shades, with 
his paints and his brushes and his dazzling 
palettes, is living the time of his existence. “I 
never knew the ocean before. I never saw the 
sea till the last few days,” he rhapsodies. “The 
colors of it all; oh, the colors of the belly of a 
sea as it curls. It drives you mad because 
you’ve never seen how to paint deep salt water 
till after you’ve found out how little you’ve 
known all these years.” And he whelms down 
his pigments on paper and canvas, sketch and 
fragment chasing each other like clouds in the 
sky. He never wearies; now with pencil to 
snatch the pose of a sailor heaving on a halyard 




52 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


or sheet; now the water colors to catch the 
shadows on the sea; now he appears with the oils 
for the sunset flames and afterglow, till his energy 
fires the ardors of the very winds of heaven and 
a sudden puff oversets easel and tubes into the 
scuppers. And when the shooting spray has 
driven this astonishing person from the decks, 
lo, he has lashed his panoply in the saloon under 
the skylight and elaborates the color slashes he 
has caught in the open air. Being a Scandinavian 
by birth, we looked to see the spectacle of a guest 
holding converse with a yacht’s crew in their ain 
tongue. But sailors harbor a curious fondness 
for the speech of the Anglo-Saxon. “It’s the 
shorthand of the sea, that’s why,” says Lem 
Miller, and perhaps he is right. 

May 23d. Lat. 40.35, long. 49.36. Dis¬ 
tance run 264 miles; hourly average 11 miles. All 
lower sail. Fresh S.S.E. breeze; double reefed 
mainsail at sundown. 

The Corner at last. On this, the morning of 
the sixth day, we have reached the spot designated 
by the congress of ship owners where the mariner 
alters his course Northward for the Channel. 
We are eighty-five miles to the Southward of 
the Westward steamer track and not far from 
the middle of the ocean, Sandy Hook at noon 



Journal of Ailsa 


53 


bearing West distant about twelve hundred miles. 
We have kept even a little farther South than we 
had intended to on account of the urgent ice 
warnings in the May Hydrographic chart. So 
now we will commence to sail on the long, long 
curve, the majestic arc of the Great Circle, that 
leads to the Scillies and the finish. 

All the forenoon we had snored along at eleven 
and twelve knots, with a bank of milky fog 
glaring on the Northern horizon into which we 
all peered for signs of a drifting peak, when 
away in the Nor’west there grew a glimmer of 
white, pronounced by the infallibles in the 
skipper’s division to be a three-masted schooner 
yacht. What myriad visions of joy floated into 
our skulls as we glued our gaze to the stranger 
ahead, the while our fascinated eyes told us that 
she could be none other than the Atlantic, the 
favorite in the race, the fastest boat of her type 
in the world, the one craft that every one of us 
feared from tiny Fleur-de-Lys to kingly Valhalla. 
And here we were right up alongside, as it were, 
and drawing nearer every minute.. Some of us 
clung to the belief that the spars ahead belonged 
to the Utowana, others cherished the notion that 
they were the squaresails of the Sunbeam. Any¬ 
way, we all agreed that she was a three-master, 



54 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


and most of us were willing to bet our ultimate 
million that it was the arrogant Atlantic, when the 
bubble burst with a shatter and out of the wreck 
of our hopes there emerged by and by a gorgeous 
iceberg, flaunting his prisms in our face. Full 
two hundred feet his frigid walls rose above the 
rollers that weltered at his foundations, fixing 
a new standard in our eyes of the grandeur of 
floating things. Away with the forms of the 
clippers of eld and the ships-of-the-line built of 
oak and the pine. For the picture of their tower¬ 
ing clouds of canvas dwindles to a trifling detail 
in the presence of the Arctic berg, with his creamy 
spires carved in the living ice. Seven times 
greater below the water-line than above, he passes 
through the currents of the deep with ponder¬ 
ous glitter, the Summer seas glancing on his 
smooth, dark flanks. Awful, grand, exquisite, a 
mammoth sapphire to-day, an emerald obelisk 
to-morrow, he shoulders his pathless and menac¬ 
ing way, the consternation of the Western Ocean 
mariner. 

Later in the day our splendid visitor vanished 
in the fog after he had felled the thermometer 
from 75 0 to 45 ° in the air and lowered the water 
from 66° to 44°. At sundown we exchanged 
signals with a dismal old cargo boat, stumbling 



Journal of Ailsa 


55 


along into the West. With the same considera¬ 
tion accorded the gilded liner we returned her 
salutations—the courtesy of the deep blue sea is 
inviolate. 

May 24th. Lat. 41.50, long. 44.12. Distance 
run 256 miles; hourly average 10 2-3 miles* 
Squaresail and trysail. Strong S.W. winds and 
increasing sea. 

Fine work we did last night under a two-reefed 
mainsail, close-hauled, logging five hundred and 
twenty miles in two days. In the mid watch, 
from midnight to four this morning we reeled 
off fifty miles, and in one hour we covered the 
estimable distance of thirteen knots, nautical or 
geographical miles, as the reader fancies. Among 
mariners the word “knot” is seldom heard; 
“mile” is used instead, except in the speed of 
ships, when the more explicit term is employed; 
lest by some chance the dark hint be cast that 
the gallant vessel’s speed was reckoned in a mile 
of 5,280 feet instead of the full-grown or adoles¬ 
cent knot of 6,080 feet—seven knots equalling 
eight statute miles. 

The Artist wrought all day in oils on 
deck. “By heavens, look at the man,” said Cap’n 
Lem, as a sea top fell over the quarter and broke 
against the legs of this astounding toiler, sketch- 



56 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


ing, always, always sketching, the most unshak¬ 
able worker that ever put color on canvas. By 
an incredible system of guys and props he ar¬ 
ranged his patent, collapsible easel in the saloon 
again to-day (after it had disintegrated in the 
elements on deck a couple of times), rising 
through the companionway to spout like a bow- 
head at the first sign of the skylight covers which 
are necessary sometimes for the heavy spray, and 
you can never tell for certain when a barrel or so 
of solid green is due. 

Clouds of white brine flew over the dories 
lashed amidships all day, though we kept 
singularly clear of heavy water considering that 
our decks are only five feet above the sea. Most 
of us look with suspicion on these dories lashed 
three in a nest on each side. It is common to 
hear the Yankee dory extolled as the greatest 
sea-boat of her size in the world; as they are 
only fourteen feet long, perhaps for their 
size they are all that is claimed for them. 
Yet it must be admitted that in the hands of a 
Gloucesterman they perform wonders on the 
Banks. On the other hand, when the ordinary 
sailorman steps into one of them he wishes he 
had done something else, for a more sardonic 
little boat is inconceivable, seeming to enjoy its 
















































































































HAMBURG 













Journal of Ailsa 


57 


power of spilling you out on both sides at once. 
At all events, the average human frame is a good 
deal more comfortable in a stout yawl boat; and 
we could easily carry a couple of them, instead 
of six of these irritable craft. 

A wonderful sight to-night rushing Eastward 
at nearly twelve knots beneath the clear stars* 
A strong Sou’wester drives us on before a high, 
though regular sea, under the squaresail and 
trysail, the yacht swinging rail under to port and 
starboard, drenching us with spurts and streams 
of phosphorus; while the big rascals towering 
over the stern throw an actual glare from their 
curling tops. 

May 25th. Lat. 43.52, long. 39.12. Distance 
run 251 miles; hourly average 10^2 miles. Run¬ 
ning under squaresail and trysail; strong S.W. 
gale with high, furious sea. Used oil bags for 
12 hours. 

All day we have run before high Southwest 
winds and an ugly, breaking sea. It began to 
blow hard at ten in the forenoon and at midday 
the Sou’wester was booming along at least 
force 8 in the Beaufort scale and the ocean 
had risen in a nasty, peaked sea that hung high 
above the flying yacht, with two helmsmen lashed 
to the wheel and three oil bags out to windward* 



58 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


And this is the manner of an oil bag: A sort of 
pouch is made of heavy duck, of the size and 
shape of a ham, and is then stuffed with oakum 
and “wave” oil is poured over it till sodden; upon 
which the bag is sewed up, holes are punched in 
it with a small spike and it is hung over the 
weather bow. There amid the rage of foam it 
slowly yields its viscous life-blood, which drifts 
swiftly past and smooths the dangerous crests 
that hound us astern; and a gallon of “wave” 
oil will cover a multitude of seas. 

Incredible was the effect of this treatment. 
Cliffs of water rose astern, high over the jigger 
mast, their mighty haunches ribbed like corru¬ 
gated steel, with roaring crest, boiling. Nothing 
could save us, that was manifest, nothing; and the 
curious, little iridescent film trailed astern, sullen 
and spreading. Forward came the big combers 
till the spindrift choked the air and the blast of 
doom had almost sounded, when something 
loosed the magic, and the foam and the curling 
crest melted away and the stifled giant stole 
quietly under our flanks, with a slap at the 
quarters as he passed by. And the big, harmless 
bulk of the roller (for it is only the crest that 
bites) hurled us, launched us into the air like a 
goosequill and strode on to seek another victim. 



Journal of Ailsa 


59 


Far away, we watched the pyramid seas tower 
and flee along the devasted horizon; and the 
smell of the salt spume filled the soul—the Thing 
that drew Magellan round the world and nerved 
the rugged Anson for the Horn. The sea was 
calling with his ringing cry, and down the gale 
went flying the sailor songs of men. 

Our companionway and skylights have been 
battened down for forty-eight hours. The only 
entrance below is by way of an iron ladder 
through a hatchway leading into the skipper’s 
room; and we have to watch our chance and skip 
below mighty suddenly and clap the hatch to 
again, often imprisoning some fingers and 
a thumb or two in the consummation of the feat. 
We have had no water below yet, for even the 
deadlights in the decks are tight, though the 
light is rather dim in the saloon and we eat our 
meals in a yellow lamp-glow to the chattering 
spray on deck like bullets on a roof. But the 
luxury of our repasts has in no whit diminished 
and we still continue to inhaust such delicacies as 
squabs, souffle omelettes and salads, not to men¬ 
tion the sterner provender of the deep sea; and 
the wonderful cooking master in the galley and 
the still more marvelous acrobat who serves us 
at the table pursue serenely their divers labors. 



6 o The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


The Ailsa has performed some very unusual an¬ 
tics in the last two days, yet but seldom does the 
clatter of a shattered platter assail us, and there 
is a complete dearth of those fulsome oaths in 
the galley that always accompany the capsizing 
of scalding coffee. In short three more utterly 
contented men it would be hard to find than the 
after-guard in the Ailsa. Indeed, what more does 
the sailorman want than a fine bluster of a 
breeze, a good bit of ship under him and a score 
of lusty lads on deck to steer and stand by ? Our 
little vessel is not altogether of the type one 
would voluntarily choose for offshore work; yet 
she has soundly done her duty so far, and more 
no one could ask. Indeed our skipper would 
“bet a vager” that we are the driest ship in the 
fleet, for our light build and almost incredible 
buoyancy keep us well clear of dangerous water 
on deck; thick, heavy spray is flying all the time 
now, but the oil kills the wicked, hollow arch 
on the ridges of the big fellows, so that their 
familiarity is not such as to breed contempt. The 
helmsmen are still made fast to the wheel in 
chance of a heavy invasion, a precaution taken 
by every good seaman in small boats. 

Our cyclonic disturbance—for such it gives 
evidence of being—arrived in mid Atlantic, about 



Journal of Ailsa 


61 


fifteen hundred miles from Sandy Hook and the 
Channel. It is hard to estimate on the weather 
now, at ten in the evening; but the aneroid 
is not in a cheerful temper and the wind looks 
as though it were going to shift into a Nor’wester. 
But we will hang on as long as we can. 

May 26th. Lat. 45, long. 34. Distance run 
224 miles; hourly average 9 1-3 miles. Hove to 
under the trysail in a heavy N.W. gale and gigan¬ 
tic sea. 

Only those of us who had graduated as “extra 
master” of the sea got any sleep last night. Both 
wind and sea increased after twelve o’clock and 
the sharp heaves when the big leaden bulb seven¬ 
teen feet below the water-line jerked our spars 
to windward when the crests had passed by, 
tested our gear to the final ounce and also our 
ability to stay in bed. Running in a heavy sea in 
broad daylight is as nice and close work as most 
men want to experience; but when dusk falls 
and you have the darkness ahead of you and 
indubitable evidence that the gale is freshening, 
and that those vast combers are climbing higher 
every hour, you comprehend, perhaps for the 
first time, what a sliver a yacht at sea really is 
when the burly winds are aboard—when the 



62 The Race for the Emperofs Cup 


Great Organist opens His diapasons and starts 
the deep and powerful Song of the Shrouds. 

Thus in an ever-mounting sea, in which all 
the energies of Nature seemed to have been con¬ 
centrated, we ran the Ailsa before it all last night. 
Clutching the “slide” of the after-hatch imme¬ 
diately forward of the wheel, we could watch the 
terrific crests astern rearing up in clouds of 
frothy glimmer, and see the helmsmen grinding 
the wheel hard up to keep her dead before it; 
and then the breathless rush on the ridge of the 
roller as it roared by, and the deep drop into the 
liquid pit that seemed to draw the very air from 
the lungs, while the squaresail flapped a moment 
in the calm hollow of the seas. Under usual 
conditions we should have hove the yacht to long 
ere this and passed the night in peace, comfort¬ 
ably, head to the gale, instead of this wild and 
dangerous flight. But this is not a cruise where 
comfort is the motto, but a race across the 
Atlantic solitudes, where driving wins through 
daylight and dark and victory is purchased at 
the cost of sleepless nights and needle-pointed 
nerves. 

Captain Miller was on deck all night, silent 
and vigilant, one eye on the compass card, the 
other on the graybeards astern, lending a hand 




Journal of Ailsa 


63 


now and again when we took an extra devilish 
shear. Heavy rain squalls burst every half hour 
or so up to two in the morning, when it cleared 
off somewhat, and the wind shifted gradually 
into the Northwest in a succession of furious 
gusts, and an hour later had steadied into a 
magnificent roar—the deep tones of what seamen 
call a heavy gale, and landsmen a hurricane. It 
seemed to breathe fresh life into the ocean’s 
rage; and in the drab dawn we marked the lock- 
step of the giant seas. 

Men must eat though and a stout breakfast 
gladdens the heart; and when we had clawed up 
on deck again from the dense air and sooty 
lamps of the saloon, the sun was beaming in a 
blue sky, and we wondered where were the 
sources of this mighty wind. The heavens hung 
stainless above us, but the sun gazed down on a 
scene of primal chaos and on twenty-eight 
humans reeling along in a racing machine like a 
leaf in a squall. The sea caught the reflection of 
the cobalt sky and discarded that lowering gray 
hue that chills the mind in most heavy gales, and 
glistening snow-banks now capped the dark-blue 
flanks. 

But the little Ailsa had reached her limit of 
running. As the morning wore by and the view 




64 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


from the peaks grew wilder and grander, all the 
men in the yacht could not have kept her straight 
before the assaults of the Atlantic monsters, and 
she yawed and gasped in the attacks like a 
wounded creature. Time and again she swerved 
up quartering on the long slopes, while the men 
ground at the wheel in vain, and at length in a 
sweeping arc she all but broached, heeling at 
the same time till stationary objects fetched away, 
and a man glanced at his neighbor. Still Cap’n 
Lem could not bring himself to throw away 
what we all believed to be an excellent position 
in the race by laying the yacht to and allowing 
some of our larger competitors to pass us—those 
who could safely run in this smother. He stood 
holding by the weather dories, leaning now to 
one view, now to another, when the Ailsa settled 
it for him by swinging up broadside on a tall sea 
and broaching right in the whistling crest. She 
all but turned round and looked us in the face, 
and no one on board could doubt that we had run 
her to the extreme edge of safety. The yacht 
would not handle running in such weather, was 
beyond control at times, and we had but one 
alternative, that of heaving to. The eighty-ton 
heap of lead and the cutaway fore body of a 
modern ninety-foot racing yacht decide her 























* 












VALHALLA 









Journal of Ailsa 


65 


ability to run before it pretty early in the game; 
we had run a little too long as it was, and now 
we were stalled with the question of how the Ailsa 
would behave when we put the wheel down— 
whether we could find a suitable “smooth” for 
her to come up in, or whether one of the old 
whiteheads would do us the honor of a visit and 
we wouldn’t come up at ail. 

It was a moment for deeds, though, and not 
words, and one of the hands was stationed on 
the weather side with a bucket of wave oil which 
he ladled out with a cup over the boiling sea— 
a gleaming scum that we could follow far up to 
windward as we raced on. It seemed to be a 
good chance at this minute, though away up in 
the eye of the gale rose the smoking crest of a 
perfect monarch of the sea; he seemed to be 
headed so as to pass astern of us though, and 
the voice of our skipper rang above the riot: 
“Now, boys, get dot squaresail off her.” 

Now we are in that rare condition of a vessel 
without a hangerback in the crew, and the words 
were scarcely out when a dozen men sprang into 
the white smother forward of the mast. The Ailsa 
was pushing her nose pretty far into green water 
now and then when seized with one of her un¬ 
conquerable desires to turn around, and Svensen, 




66 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


the second mate, and the men who went with 
him had the solid water to their knees. Where 
Svensen toils though victory lurks; and with 
feet glued to the deck and every finger a fishhook 
this splendid Norseman and his band of Vikings, 
laughing, cursing, bawling and hauling their 
hearts out nearly, got the big square of canvas 
on deck. 

“Now, Olstadt, get all hands on der trysail 
sheet. Let Olaf and Petersen take der wheel; 
und when I sing out, fellows, jump on her. 
Overboard mit der oil now.” And even as the 
skipper spoke the moment had arrived when we 
had to face that sea head on. Lying to is, of 
course, much easier and safer than running, and 
yet when you are going off before it the gale 
does seem to jeer at you till the ship’s head 
comes up to the wind and you hang without 
headway in the muck of sea. We were all ready 
now. Extra lashings had been passed around 
everything movable on deck, anticipating this 
moment; every hatch and skylight was tight. 
Sixteen able seamen gripped the trysail sheet, 
and, with nothing set now but the little frag¬ 
ment of storm canvas, we fled before it, waiting 
for a smooth sea. We could see the long slick 
of the oil up to windward, all ruffled up, but 




Journal of Ailsa 


67 


silently doing its work; and there were few gray- 
beards in its path. Then came the lull that pre¬ 
vails at intervals in even the strongest gales* 
Lem Miller threw a last glance to windward. 
“Now we take der bite mit der apple und swallow 
it,” he said; and then, “Down mit your helium, 
now, boys, quick. Aft mit der trysail sheet there, 
fellows. In mit him, now. Dot’s der way. Haul 
him in hand over—Herr Gott, where dot sea 
come from? Everybody hold fast.” 

The Ailsa was swinging up to the wind like a 
dog-vane and had come halfway up when the 
whole of our weather view suddenly vanished be¬ 
hind the bulk of the huge breaker we had noticed 
a while before and were supposed to have cleared. 
Nobody said a word except one man, who yelled: 
“What the hell!” probably without knowing it. 
Indeed, there was but a second of time separating 
the roller and the yacht, and yet every detail 
stood out to the eye as though posing for an 
artist, with all day for the picture. The men 
glared up at the grim crest through its own 
spume that now whirled over us; and as we 
watched, the crest curled, and forty feet above 
our heads there burst the vast thunder of the 
breaking sea. In the second’s fraction that still 
remained there was yet time for the Ailsa to head 



68 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


the wind and sea, for she was spinning up to 
the gale like a gull and would top this breaker 
if she did. If she did not come to, we had taken 
our last view of boats, gear and men, for nothing 
could live on deck in fifty tons of solid ocean. 
That this journal was ever finished is evidence 
that she did. A heavy gust at the last moment, 
we feared, had about ended the thing, for we 
were right beneath the crest and long plumes of 
spray, like powdered snow, streamed over us, 
when the yacht with a sudden lucky kick-up of 
her quarters brought her bows to windward and 
they vanished in that amazing hell. Up toward 
the zenith they reared, and the froth covered the 
Ailsa like a snow crust and blinded our vision, so 
that it was only the deep, soughing drop into 
the hollow that told us of the passing of that 
great wave. 

The rest was easy, comfortable work We 
made the trysail sheet fast flat aft, left one hand 
at the wheel lest she come all the way round 
on the other tack, hung the oil over the weather 
side, dusted the salt from our eyes and dropped 
below; for eight bells had just gone and it was 
dinner time. All that afternoon the Ailsa passed 
away the time soaring over the combers whose 
too close acquaintance was foiled by the oil bags; 



Journal of Ailsa 


69 


her feather weight rested on the sea like a swan 
and nothing but a little flip of spray now and then 
spattered the decks. It was hard to believe that 
the same little ship, that a short time ago was 
scouring through it like a frightened shark, was 
now the steady craft that breasted the worst seas 
like a swimmer in the surf—so incredible is the 
difference between running and lying to. And 
when a big Hamburg expressman surged by at 
three o’clock, half a mile away, we seemed to be 
making better weather of it than the liner. In¬ 
deed, she sunk out of sight to her funnels 
sometimes and went knocking about like a West 
Coast timber raft, a complete antithesis to our 
own easy swinging. Still, we presented her with 
an undoubtedly novel spectacle—a racing machine 
hove to in mid-ocean—and she appeared to ap¬ 
preciate it, for her rail was crowded with 
passengers with cameras, waving hats and 
shawls, and no doubt cheering, though the roar 
of the gale drowned their most valiant efforts. 
Their view point of the surface of the Atlantic, 
too, was not quite the same as ours; the hurricane 
deck people regarding the stormy waters from 
an altitude of sixty feet, we from sixty inches. 
Yet no doubt there were many human beings 
on the liner who thought themselves better off 



yo The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


than we were; but equally true probably every 
one of them wished he was ashore and looked 
forward to the following three or four days of 
his passage as a horrid phantom to be slaughtered 
as soon as possible. Whereas, we were at that 
moment in the seaman’s Valhalla, so to speak, 
laid to in a happy, able, little vessel with plenty 
of sea-room and good fellowship, the lockers 
filled with the finest of sea food, and nothing 
to do but hark to the harrowing yarns of the 
mates and to the arguments of Cap’n Lem, 
whose chief desire is to “bet a vager” with some 
one. 

May 27th. Lat. 46.11, long. 30.43. Dis¬ 
tance run 162 miles; hourly average 7 miles. 
Squaresail and trysail. Strong W.S.W. winds. 
Enormous following sea. 

As darkness approached last night the gale 
eased up a little and at about eight o’clock we 
set the squaresail and filled away before it again 
and ran the yacht all night ahead of an immense 
sea. It is one thing to lie to in the dark hours 
and get away again at daylight; it is quite an¬ 
other one to lie still all day and get her before 
it at dusk. However, we made very fine weather 
of it and shipped no water beyond the usual spray 
storms; the seas broke less frequently after dark 



Journal of Ailsa 


7 1 


though they seemed to increase in height and 
majesty and to lengthen out as though to greet 
the Polar Star which rises higher in the heavens 
now each night as we increase the latitude. And 
a most exhilarating thing it is to watch the sun 
go down in a Nor’west gale at sea, with a clear 
sparkle in the air, the stars clean and silvery and 
the rush of the wind through space, till the lonely 
grandeur of the Almighty nears to an almost 
perceptible presence. 

We had a gay moment just before our midday 
meal yesterday. When we turned around in the 
crest the second time, it appears that all the 
Artist’s painting insignia lay on his bunk, neatly 
grouped—drawing paper, disintegrating easel, 
brushes and paints, both oil and water. Then 
came the great angle of heel, and when we 
stormed the dinner table we had to guide our 
feet through a rainbow sea on the passageway 
floor, more brilliant than the arc in the sky, where 
liquid color oozed and squirmed over palette and 
paper; and the wooden floor of the saloon, 
because of our footsteps, became as a carpet 
from the looms of Bokhara. Even the gaunt 
jaws of the son of Albion relaxed in the ex¬ 
tremity of the moment, while he presented us 
with a more than usually variegated banquet, 



72 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


finally concluding with “Hirish peaches” as he 
placed four mammoth baked apples before us. 

The aneroid is rising markedly, and there is 
every reason for thinking that some fine weather 
is ahead of us, when we will be able to liberate 
the coal oil fumes below by opening the hatches 
and other ventilators. At the height of the gale 
yesterday, at noon, we were very nearly two- 
thirds of the way across the Atlantic, and five 
days more ought to see us nearly at the line, if 
indeed not past it. 

May 28th. Lat. 47.29, long. 25.06. Dis¬ 
tance run 243 miles; hourly average 10 miles. 
Squaresail and trysail; set mainsail at 8 p. m. 
Fresh breeze from W.S.W. Sea very high but 
moderating. 

The duration of this heavy sea is a source of 
ceaseless marvel to us. In the Southern Ocean 
the Westerlies drive before them the highest 
seas in the world right around the globe, for 
there is nothing to obstruct them but a few 
clusters of rock; and these Westerlies sound their 
war chant three hundred and sixty-five days in 
the year down there, except when an occasional 
Southeaster steals in and upsets the household. 
But in the North Atlantic, where the whirligig 
winds live, such steady and heavy rollers as we 























































ENDYMION 





Journal of Ailsa 


73 


have met in the last four days are quite startling. 
The Western Ocean is generally spoken of as 
the only spot on the planet where the gales blow 
from all four points of the compass simultane¬ 
ously, and this flagellant treatment, instead of 
urging old Neptune to the impressive displays 
that he exhibits in the South, enrages him, and 
he gets his back up in savage peaks and pyramids 
that start from nowhere and arrive at the same 
place, like a sea of geysers. This time though 
the Atlantic seems to be trying for a record, 
for we are still swinging away into the East 
before the big, blue, even ridges, rolling deep in 
the splutter on top. 

At supper last evening there was a half hour 
of particularly exasperating rolling which over¬ 
taxed the oscillating angle of our swinging table 
several times. The customary gastronomic dis¬ 
play staggered us once more as we took our 
allotted seats, and we had begun the attack with 
more than usual vigor when there came along 
a king-roller that lifted us out of our seats and 
the good things off the table. The Artist, on the 
weather side of it, was arrested early in his 
trajectory by the table itself, and I was fortunate 
in a lucky clutch of its stanchions. The brass 
swinging lamps clashed against the carlins over- 



74 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


head with the synchronous destruction of our 
repast; and in the din of shattered china we 
turned to greet our host, but lo, he had gone. 
His revolving chair whirled and spun to the heav¬ 
ing, but he was not in it. Like the holder of the 
Tarnhelm he had disappeared, even as the chief 
of the Nibelungs. Conjecture choked us, when 
up from the remnants of our feast, in an angle 
of the cabin, rose unexpectedly the face of our 
leader, the fountain head of all our joys, with 
battered shin and words of woe. Never mind, 
though; for he has fashioned out of boards on 
his big double bed a sort of trough where he rests 
immovable as the North Pole in any stress of 
weather. Not infrequently the Master of Light 
and Shade is cast broadside from his lofty bunk; 
while across the passageway the soft tones of a 
sleeper proclaim the peace that passeth belief. 

May 29th. Lat. 48-25, long. 20. Distance 
run 218 miles; average per hour 9 miles. All 
plain sail. Long Westerly sea; moderate S.W. 
winds. Passing showers. 

An incalculable improvement in the weather 
greeted us this morning. We actually had dry 
spots on the deck in places for the first time in 
a week; and it is a fine thing to get the battens 
off the hatches and companionway at the end of 



HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY 
WILLIAM II 
GERMAN EMPEROR 










Journal of Ails a 


75 


four days and let the free winds sweep out the 
kerosene fumes and the weird breaths from the 
big meat boxes. 

From daylight on for several hours we sighted 
in detail a whole fleet of liners, the passenger 
pigeons that left the Channel the day before 
yesterday—Saturday. First came by at half past 
four a North German Lloyder at full speed, 
dipping her flag to us; and the roaring of her 
giant stacks was like the voice of the gale. Then 
two combination steamers accosted us in scarlet; 
and the Philadelphia hurried by with a greeting 
from the starry flag of home. And very big 
and grand did the liners loom on the horizon 
doing their twenty-one knots, dipping into the 
last of the Southwesterly swell—the embers of 
the storm. 

On a voyage of this sort a kind of personal 
affection for the crew collectively and individually 
springs up in the heart. There is not one of the 
eighteen men before the mast but stands out in 
a way from his fellows, distinguished by some 
little unpremeditated deed. Olsen showed his 
grit that day on the bowsprit end when she was 
jumping into it; Olaf did great work at the mast¬ 
head in the squall; Petersen nearly jammed his 
fingers off in a block, and no one knew it 



j6 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


till an hour afterward when we were all snugged 
down for the blow. Thus is it—some little act, 
small in the world but none the less heroic, and 
mighty important to us, attaches to each one. 
And around them all hovers the big frame of 
John Svensen, second mate, first in danger, skil¬ 
ful and powerful, the Hercules of the ship. 

May 30th. Lat. 49.20, long. 16.15. Dis¬ 
tance run 136 miles; hourly average 5 2-3 miles. 
All plain sail. Light Westerly winds; smooth 
sea; dry weather. 

This was the finest day of the passage so far, 
the only perfectly clear and Summery one with 
a high, steady glass that we have had; and when 
the steward awakened us this morning with his 
greeting: “Seven bells, sir, ’arf parst seven; 
and a fine, salubrious mornin’, sir,” he told 
the living truth for once in his wretched 
life. As the days have passed and we have been 
swiftly approaching the finish he has uncovered 
very astonishing powers of sustained monologue, 
always concluding with a diatribe against some 
alleged iniquities of the gallant skipper, till an 
order from the Navigator sends him forward 
and we can follow his enormous leer far up into 
the galley. Half the pleasure of a Summer’s 
yachting is ruined by this ceaseless warfare 



Journal of Ailsa 


77 


between the executive and the culinary divisions. 
No one ever knew a captain and steward who 
spoke to each other after the second day. Each 
seems to consider the other’s presence on board 
as an affront. Twenty-five years ago fervid 
personal attacks sometimes deprived the yacht 
of these gentlemen’s services for consider¬ 
able periods; but as these bodily strength tests 
are becoming rarer now, possibly it is an indica¬ 
tion that we may anticipate the day when the 
hatchet or meat axe will be permanently laid 
aside. 

Daylight this morning showed us the three 
lofty masts of our old friend Utowana, lying 
an immense saffron cloud three miles on our 
weather bow; the airs were too light for her 
during the day, though, and we slowly dropped 
her as the hours passed-. As for the day itself, 
it might have been picked at random from the 
Southeast Trades in the Pacific Ocean, where 
each one is so sunny and invigorating that merely 
inhaling it is like a puff of hasheesh. It was a 
fine chance for the Artist to finish up some 
sketches and this brush compeller delayed him 
not, but wrought and wrought again, till at dewy 
eve his vest even gleamed in the sunset like a 



78 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


cathedral window, a veritable coat of many 
colors. 

May 31st. Lat. 49.30, long, 9.46. Distance 
run 250 miles; average per hour 10 y 2 miles. 
Two-reefed mainsail; fresh Southerly breeze 
with rain squalls. Sea smooth. 

With ordinary conditions this ought to have 
been our final day at sea. Only one hundred and 
twenty-five miles separated us from Bishop Rock 
in the Scillies at noon, and as the Lizard is only 
fifty miles beyond, we ought to cross the line 
some time early to-morrow. Since daybreak a 
strong Southerly wind has driven us along on a 
broad reach sometimes at better than twelve 
knots, though we had to tie a couple of reefs in 
the mainsail after noon, and the spray flew as in 
the ancient days, though there was no swell. 
Very gallant have the winds been to us, too, 
never once heading us since the first four hours 
of the passage, so that throughout the race we 
have had an almost constant fair wind; once or 
twice we have been jammed as close as we could 
get, but there has not been a moment when we 
could not lay our course; and this course, by the 
compass, is still East by South. Three thousand 
miles away we set the ship’s head in this direction 
and we still hold it. The English Channel bears 




Journal of Ailsa 


79 


from Sandy Hook about Northeast true; but 
the Westerly variation, which greatly increases 
as the longitude decreases in the North Atlantic, 
arranges it so that the compass course of East 
by South takes the navigator from New York 
into the Channel; in short, that he may reach 
his destination he steers several points away 
from it. 

The Utowana closed in on us again during the 
night and for hours to-day in the fresh breeze 
we tore along boat for boat, neither of us able to 
outfoot the other, though the big three-master 
lugged all her topsails while we had to shorten 
down to double reefs. The one single, all-per¬ 
vading thought that imbues the mind of every 
one of us, is the momentous one: “Where are 
we in the race?” We know we are not last and 
we have no reason to think we are first; for some 
of the big fellows, indeed probably all the other 
boats in the race, ran through the heavy weather 
on the twenty-sixth. So would we in spite of our 
few feet of length if we were of any other shape 
known to naval science; but to expect a little 
boat with no forefoot, with the mast nearly in 
the middle of her and a hundred and sixty thou¬ 
sand pounds of lead soldered on to the very edge 
of what little keel she has, to run when the 



8o 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


weather, is bad is a very unreasonable thing. 
Several of the yachts must have passed us, there¬ 
fore, during the eight hours that we lay head to 
the sea, and a position somewhere near the mid¬ 
dle of the fleet will be as exalted a one as we will 
probably get. 

Be this as it may, there is not a man in our 
little ship who is not sorry that the race is so 
nearly over, at least among us aft. A jolly, 
healthy, wonderful fortnight has it been, with 
not a minute of illness of any sort nor any but 
the most trivial accidents. That some hapless 
seaman did not slide over the low ten-inch rail 
in some of the pas seuls that Ailsa invented from 
time to time, is the most astonishing fact of the 
passage. We have known her to sit right down 
comfortably and take a good, long observation 
of the heavenly bodies, and to exhibit in the 
tick of a watch an equal interest in the depths 
below. Perhaps the very quickness of it all 
fended off disaster, like snapping a napkin from 
under a goblet on the table. Anyhow, we 
are all on board who stepped over the side in the 
Lower Bay, full of heartiness and respect for the 
North Atlantic and a rising regret that the 
morning light will show us the goal. 







HILDEGARDE 



















Journal of Ailsa 


81 


June 1st. “White light right ahead, sir.” So 
spake Olaf, the man with the telescope eyes, at 
nine-thirty last evening, the words dropping faint 
to the deck through the gusty dark. “Bishop 
Rock,” said Cap’n Lem, with a perfect ogre’s 
grin, “and just where I wanted to make it.” 
Indeed it was pretty nice navigation this; and it 
is the ultimate moment of satisfaction to the 
master mariner when, after thousands of stormy 
miles, he raises his landmark out of the trackless 
ocean. 

And because of this brilliant beacon the three 
of us did not get over-much sleep last night; and 
when the Briton called us this morning at half 
past three with the shibboleth, “Gawd’s country,” 
three shivering men stood on deck in pajamas 
overpowered by the grandeur of the moment. 
Astern lay the open wastes of the Atlantic, misty- 
gray in the background, with a great three-mast 
yacht in the foreground flying through the sea 
just astern of a white yawl. Ahead, the world’s 
greatest highway, the English Channel, covered 
with the ochre sails of fishermen, framed in 
banks of glowing mist. And on the port hand, 
the wild coast of Cornwall; and the Lizard tower, 
an outcast on the rocks, a whetstone for the 
Winter storms, whisking its silent message into 



82 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


the red dawn. Down the wind we flew for the 
finish, Utowana and Ailsa, tearing the waters 
of the Channel into suddy yeast, with Lloyd's 
flags on the crags asking: “What vessel is that ?” 
Brighter and rosier grew the dawn and every 
five minutes saw us a mile nearer the finish line, 
with that smooth, black hull and slanting spire 
of canvas like a hound astern of us, but resist- 
lessly crawling up foot by foot in the strong 
wind. All the men of the ship’s company, save 
Lem Miller and the mighty Svensen, stood 
clustered at the mast gazing at the brown rocks 
crowned with the flashing light, that we had 
battled for so long and hard. Perhaps—for, who 
could say ?—we were the first of the fleet to greet 
the solemn headland, and our hearts quickened as 
we closed on the goal line. What if the little 
hundred-and-twenty-tonner had after all run 
away from her ponderous rivals and had 
captured the silver trophy! Perhaps some of the 
big fellows had been dismasted in the breeze 
a week ago; the unexpected happens at sea if 
nowhere else on the earth. But there was an 
ominous absence of committee and press boats 
to meet us at the finish, though to be sure we 
might have caught them napping by our fast 



Journal of Ailsa 


83 


passage; and some of the fishermen that lay in 
our track ahead would be able to settle the thing 
out of hand. 

There was not even the suggestion of a little 
side bet; the moment was all too solemn and 
austere. Even Cap’n Lem’s unquenchable desire 
to “bet a vager” vanished in the stress of 
emotion. We were right on top of the line now, 
with Utowana within half a mile of us; and as 
the fires in the sky deepened and burned, the 
sun threw a patch of crinkled gold over the 
waves beyond the bowsprit and we roared across 
the finish fourteen days and eleven hours from 
Sandy Hook. 

After passing the line we did not clew up any¬ 
thing, for we were bound to Southampton, but we 
luffed up toward a Penzance trawler just ahead, 
to hear our doom. “Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!” 
yelled the men of nets and traps. “Are we first ?” 
shouted the leather-voiced Lem. “The Atlantic 
finished two days ago and a ship came in third,” 
was the bomb fired by the fishermen* The 
devastation of this statement was lost to the 
masters of hook and line, for another shell burst 
with prostrating effect: “You’re about seventh or 
eighth*” 



84 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


And then three stricken forms might have been 
perceived creeping with pain around the dories 
and vanishing one by one into the dusky square 
of the companion hatchway. 



HELIGOLAND 


RACE 

















CHAPTER II 


HELIGOLAND RACE 

On a gusty, rainy morning, twenty-four hours 
after Ailsa passed the finish line at the Lizard 
in the Kaiser’s Atlantic race, we sailed up South¬ 
ampton Water to refit, assisted by a little iron 
tug, and received the cheers and greetings of 
six of the seven contestants that had finished 
ahead of us. No one on the other racers was any 
too sanguine that we had weathered the gale of 
May 26th; and when Ailsa was made out by 
the rest of the fleet lying at anchor at day¬ 
break in the Solent, there was general astonish¬ 
ment and many deep-sea felicitations. Through¬ 
out the heavy weather the other racers had kept 
well in mind the ninety-foot fin-keeler, for the 
bulb fin was an unknown quantity in a Western 
Ocean race. 

The first of the fleet to make us out sailing 
up Southampton Water was the bluflp old Hilde- 
garde. She was lying out abreast of the Netley 
Hospital and a sailor aloft on her foremast head 
picked us up. He hailed the deck, and by the 

(87) 


88 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


time we had got abreast of her, all hands had lined 
up along her starboard rail; caps and yells filled 
the air till we h&d passed by and edged up on 
Endymion, who repeated the honor. Finally we 
anchored well up in the harbor alongside the Sun¬ 
beam, whose white broadsides showed but little 
hard usage of the sea in the three-thousand-mile 
struggle. Lord Brassey, the Sunbeam’s owner, 
pulled aboard of us as soon as we had let go and 
extended his congratulations that every one who 
had left America in the Ailsa was still on the 
earth’s surface, and drank our health with a rare 
and delightful courtesy; for no one has the ele¬ 
gance of manner comparable with the old gentle¬ 
men of the sea. The contemplation and much 
usage of the solitudes of the ocean breed an ur¬ 
banity as unique as it is antique, for twenty-three 
knots grinds off the polish from the most gracious 
of souls. One can all but fancy the saintly Emer¬ 
son stripped of his serenity amid twenty-five 
thousand tons of lunging, roaring steel, racing 
through the Atlantic with forty thousand horse¬ 
power loose in the boilers. 

Lord Brassey promoted the opinion that cross¬ 
ing in the Ailsa was premeditated suicide, or 
something very like it. In fairness to our little 
ship, though, we differed with him, and showed 







■ 


•• •••••» 






■ 











Heligoland Race 


89 


him every man of the crew as hale and able as 
when he signed for the voyage a thousand leagues 
ago. Not all the racers could say as much, for at 
least one of them finished with some rib-fractured 
seamen among the ship’s company. 

Shortly afterward we returned Lord Brassey’s 
visit and had the privilege of looking over the 
most renowned and historic cruising yacht in the 
world. She is built like an old-time ship-of-the- 
line, massive and apparently indestructible, for 
she shows no markings of the four decades that 
have passed since her launching. Her decks are 
of thick, wide teak planks like a frigate’s, the 
houses square and heavy, with windows instead 
of round port holes, filled with blocks of glass 
like glare ice. Below, this remarkable vessel, 
that has covered more than three hundred 
thousand miles of ocean, resembles more a 
museum of archaeology than the interior of a 
yacht. Souvenirs from the monarchs of East 
and West fill the cabins and saloon; and though 
the day was heavy with rain clouds, the big 
skylights flooded the ship with brightness. Lord 
Brassey indicated the various priceless objects 
with pardonable satisfaction: “That sideboard 
was given to Lady Brassey twenty-five years ago 
by the Raja of Sarawak,” pointing to a huge 



go The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


monument of teak. “Those doors of sandal-wood 
were presented by the Sultan of Perak, and the 
flock of ivory elephants by the Sultan of Johore.” 
So all over the boat. In any other vessel, all 
the ornaments and carved settees would have 
been unbearable; but they seemed to be a vital 
part of the Sunbeam’s personality, inseparable 
from and a part of her long and honorable his¬ 
tory. Innumerable little carved objects, each 
with an incident attached, were invisibly secured 
to mantelpiece and sideboard, yet nothing looked 
overdone nor out of the way; while a sea-coal 
fire smouldered in the cabin grate to complete 
the picture of domestic felicity. 

After the venerable yachtsman had apparently 
exhausted all the Sunbeam’s splendors, he opened 
the door of a very modest little cabin and said: 
“And here Tennyson lived for days together 
when he used to come off with me for a run down 
into the Mediterranean.” And, turning the handle, 
he uncovered an even more humble apartment: 
“Here was dear old Gladstone’s room, and there 
are some of his books that he left on board on 
his last visit.” It was with visible feeling that 
Lord Brassey mentioned the name of the great 
Prime Minister; and it was evident that some¬ 
thing more stable than ordinary friendship ex- 



Heligoland Race 


9 i 


isted between them. All told, the visit to the Sun¬ 
beam proved to be a remarkable incident; and 
not the least attractive part of it was the person¬ 
ality of the Dean of the Deep Sea Yachtsmen. 

Dover, June 14th to 16th. On board the Ailsa 
once more, with nearly a month of joy ahead of 
us, after a fortnight of refitting. We reached 
Southampton to join the yacht again on the after¬ 
noon of the fourteenth and found her in brilliant 
raiment from water-line to burgee. In her glis¬ 
tening topsides it was hard to recognize the 
grimy craft that sailed up the English Channel 
two weeks ago; sand and holystone had served 
their end on deck and the metal and bright work 
caught the sun’s rays fore and aft. A great- 
souled friend of ours, owner of a large steam 
yacht, offered to tow us up from Southampton to 
Dover, and we stopped over one night at Cowes 
for a look at the Royal Yacht Squadron and to 
marvel at men sailing races among the rips and 
eddies of the Solent courses* Simplicity reduced 
almost to severity hovers all about the Squadron 
Castle; indeed it is difficult to realize that this 
unaffected edifice with the shining lawn houses 
so haughty and distinguished a society. On 
every side were heard expressions of wonder¬ 
ment that Ailsa should have entered so boisterous 



92 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


a contest, opposed as she was to heavy-weather 
vessels many times her tonnage. 

At noon on the fifteenth, the steam yacht cast 
off our hawser inside the Dover breakwater and 
we let go half a mile from the shingle beach 
under a glittering sun that necessitated an awn¬ 
ing on deck. Eight people sat down at meat that 
day in the renascent saloon. Unutterable change. 
Two weeks ago, bare, rough planks beneath the 
table; three tons of canvas crowding one side of 
the room; huge, thick glass receivers under the 
dead lights to catch the drip; charts, dividers, 
parallel rulers; yawning meat box. Now, heavy 
velvet carpets, cretonne curtains, silver and glass 
shining on a padded table. After lunch we put 
ourselves in the gig and later in a couple of 
landaus and were hauled up to Dover Castle by 
some singularly unpleasant steeds, whose notions 
and desires in life were as much unlike ours as 
they could possibly be. Finally, most of us had 
to walk up part of the way; but by power of 
perseverance we scaled the cliffs at last, with 
the compensation of gazing upon the most 
famous of all salt water highways from this lofty 
eminence. With ever-rising wonder we looked 
over the Dover Straits from Caesar’s Tower, 
five hundred feet above the whirling tide; the 



Heligoland Race 


93 


French coast rode high in the bright yellow haze 
and the steamers of the world tramped North 
and South along the narrow pathway. Nineteen 
centuries ago, Julius Caesar had meditated from 
this exalted prospect and watched his tide-borne 
galleys move out from Gallia’s shores. 

In these days of disgrace though, the shining 
chalk walls of Dover and the rocky spaces are 
rent with nitrogelatine; and little tram cars, like 
Jurassic beetles bearing their plunder, zigzag up 
the heights. Paddle steamers of heroic build 
come darting in from France and Belgium every 
hour or so; and far away down in the basin the 
Ailsa, like an almond shell, dipped her head to 
their rolling wash. An altogether surpassing site, 
this; and when the carriage wheels were locked 
for the downward slide, a feeling as of a lost 
paradise filled the mind as the French littoral 
retired into the sea. 

Dover, June 17th. Most yachtsmen know 
what the feeling is when they put their heads out 
of the companion slide on the morning of the 
Astor cups at Newport, and there isn’t a whisper 
of wind, with the voices of the gold-plated 
mariners cursing the weather, on the invisible 
yachts a few yards away. That is precisely what 
we had at Dover at the start of the Heligoland 



94 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


race, with the additional delights of a heavy rain. 
The fog was not quite so brutal as the Newport 
affair; but still the coastline went out at a quarter 
of a mile, and until half past eleven a naked 
match would burn anywhere on deck. At that 
hour we learned for the first time what a real 
Channel rainfall is like; but as it brought a bit 
of a breeze, we didn’t care much about the damp¬ 
ness thereof. There were more than a dozen 
yachts entered for the three-hundred-and-twenty- 
mile race, auxiliary and otherwise, divided into 
the two respective classes, with a handicap in 
each class. 

Seldom has such work been seen as we all 
made of the start. There was a terrific current 
setting through the Straits of Dover and hardly 
wind enough to fill a flying jib; and as all the 
yachts got under way together from the anchor¬ 
age, we looked like a flock of Pekin ducks in a 
pond. Within the huge breakwater, the harbor 
lay still and black as a cistern. There wasn’t a 
ruffle on the surface, the upper canvas doing all 
the work as we knocked about waiting for the 
preparatory gun; and the energies of every skip¬ 
per were fixed on keeping his boat inside the pier 
ends out of the tide, and at the same time clear 
of the other racers fanning about on all sides. 



Heligoland Race 


95 


Now and then loomed a big ninety-footer on the 
wind, a blur in the mist, bound up the Strait 
stern first on the current, skimming along like 
a banshee on an Irish bog; and there was nothing 
seen of her for a quarter of an hour or more. 

At noon we thought we heard the preparatory 
gun. We knew that somewhere out in the Dover 
Straits there lay a steam yacht anchored at the 
outer end of the starting line, at the other limit 
of it swinging the new Pier Works lightship; 
and that it was the yacht’s duty to fire off the 
starting guns. But we had suffered all the morn¬ 
ing from the cliff blasting, dreading this moment 
of the start. Every time that a blast was touched 
off close to twelve o’clock, the ship was divided 
against itself. “Was that explosion really the 
start?” “Yes,” said the skipper. “No,” said 
the extra sailing master we had shipped for the 
Kiel week. Thus passed the minutes till we all 
but reached the point of personal violence, when 
there came the muffled crack that all agreed must 
be the start. So we let her go off for the line. 
We had just lost every landmark in the mist and 
were steering for the steam yacht by the compass 
when another dull explosion went off. So the 
question was, Had the starting gun been fired at 
all? We finally decided that it had not, and 



96 The Race for the Empero/s Cup 


made ready the kedge and dropped it overboard. 
The Ailsa brought up with a jolt at the end of the 
scope and we rode there in the celestial water¬ 
falls and the fog and the spinning tide till the 
kedge line had enough of it and parted. Then 
we got the headsails on her again, threw a final 
execration at the steam yacht and started away 
hot-foot up the Straits, past the Goodwin Sands— 
the “Good’ns” of deadly memory. Afterwards 
we learned that the first report we heard was 
really the start; and if we had not anchored in 
the confusion and lost a whole golden hour, we 
wouldn’t have been obliged to commence the 
race like a lonely phantom in the tide whirl¬ 
abouts. 

The rest of the day was foul and soggy and 
the current furnished most of the motive power. 
The jibs hung slack all the afternoon till five 
o’clock when an Easterly breeze came hopping 
along the sea and we filled away up the German 
Ocean at ten knots. 

Kiel, June 19th. Before we turned out yester¬ 
day morning, the day after the start, we knew 
by the rustle of the sea as it flew past our berths, 
only a few inches from our heads, that the Ailsa 
was moving fast through the water; and we were 
also aware by the very slight inclination of the 
















t 



















FLEUR-DE-LYS 




















Heligoland Race 


97 


vessel that the wind was astern of us. A per¬ 
sonal observation showed the weather to be even 
finer than the prognosis, for the sky was as clear 
as a mirror, the North Sea—the most waspish of 
waters—as placid as a pond, while a fifteen-mile 
breeze was turning up little flips of white on the 
surface. Below, if you omitted the angle of heel, 
you might have been in a drawing room ashore; 
the yacht’s interior suggested it, and she passed 
through the sea as steady as a steeple. As the 
day matured, the breeze freshened to a twenty- 
five-mile gait from the Sou’west, and by noon we 
were doing all of thirteen knots under the club 
topsail, with the lee waterways at least a foot 
under the surface. In a ninety-footer this means 
quite a big heel; and the sailormen, eighteen of 
them, lay dovetailed along under the weather 
rail offering odds as to the topmast’s final mo¬ 
ment of collapse—it was arched like a yew under 
the big sail—and we had all surrendered body and 
spirit to the fables of the breeze, when the vigi¬ 
lant skipper sighted the Haaks lightship, ahead 
and to windward. “Main sheet” rang out as we 
threw her up in the wind and got the sheets 
flattened in, for the perfidious currents off the 
Dutch coast had set us in toward the Scheven- 
ing beach; and in another few minutes our speed 



98 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


would have been conspicuously reduced by the 
bars and shoals that make out from the invisible 
shore, fifteen or twenty miles away. Even from 
the lightship the flat coast is often not to be seen, 
and mariners shun and fear the place as do our 
navigators the arrangements off Nantucket. 

At about one o’clock we made a jibe around 
the lightship; and then the moment had arrived 
for the unmasking of the secret, for the unmuf¬ 
fling of the mystery. For twenty-four hours, on 
the cabin table, there had lain a packet of consum¬ 
ing interest to us—a thick manila envelope within 
whose sealed covers were written the figures 
of our handicap. The conditions of the race 
sent us to sea under sealed orders, as it were, 
which forbade the opening of the wrapper till 
each boat had passed the Haaks lightship, the 
half-way house to Heligoland. Malicious minds 
have it that this disposition blocks the pos¬ 
sibility of learning the handicaps at the start and 
thereby marring the race by the withdrawal of 
querulous owners. But this may be discarded 
as an item in the fixed project of certain people 
to discredit the system and management of the 
German race committee. 

As soon as we got the yacht straightened out 
after the Haaks’ jibe (when it seemed as though 




Heligoland Race 


99 


the boat were about to split open lengthwise, like 
a broiled chicken), the boldest of us ran his knife 
under the flap of the envelope, plucked out the 
card, and we read our doom. Had we numbered 
among us any feeble minds, a catastrophe had 
fallen here; for while the Navahoe allowed us 
fifteen minutes, we in turn had to grant about six 
hours to one of the other racers, which, under the 
conditions, it was improbable that the Ailsa could 
do. About this time, too, we began to overhaul 
and pass some of our competitors that had been 
industriously sailing the race while we lay at 
anchor between the French and English coasts. 
We can’t tell how much earlier they got the breeze 
up along by the Goodwins than we did—perhaps 
three or four hours, so that they had a depressing 
lead before we had actually started. But as the 
blame for it could be traced to no man’s door, 
there was nothing to do but think how much 
worse it might have been and draw what comfort 
we could from the thought. It is a fine thing 
though to come up overhand on a rival, going 
off large before a quartering wind, with every 
thread of canvas spread and leaving a wake like 
a highroad to the horizon* 

But if this day was fine, the night was a per¬ 
fect work of magic. Away up here the daylight 

L0F& 



IOO 


The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


lasts a long while and the breeze never shifted its 
course nor its force all the way to the finish line. 
And at last when the twilight expired in the 
Nor’west, the full moon took charge of the deck 
and stood the midwatch high up in the dark of 
the sky- The dew on the bright work on deck 
turned to quicksilver and the wind-filled sails 
gave no sound. Only the sea tinkled under the 
bows. A hundred and fifty feet above the deck 
you could follow the sharp, white edge of the club 
topsail against the stars; while astern of us and 
five miles away, with the moon-blink on her 
canvas, lay one of the contestants we had passed 
—a jewel on the dark horizon. Every fifteen 
minutes our glasses swept the sky-line and showed 
but one yacht ahead of us, the Navahoe, 
a ninety-foot yawl like Ailsa. And as we looked, 
a flicker of light danced for an instant on the 
Northern horizon like an aurora glimmer. A 
few seconds, and again the dull flare passed by; 
and then we knew that the goal line lay just over 
the curve, for this was the famous Heligoland 
flash light, probably thirty miles away. We were 
doing at least ten knots though, and at a little 
past midnight we raised the light above the hori¬ 
zon when it flashed. But at one o’clock—one in 
the morning—a startling thing happened up in 




Heligoland Race 


IOI 


the Northeast. The heavens were changing 
color, coming out of the black like a conjurer’s 
trick. ’Twas the banners of the morn unfolding 
over the ancient Northern land. Then the red 
flood wheeled farther up the sky, the sea 
rolled out gray to the horizon and the electric 
flashes ahead went dim. A flat polygon of dun 
rock grew before us like a lantern slide, and 
Heligoland mounted and sat upon the sea, wink¬ 
ing his waning eye. With the break of day came 
the freshening dawn wind, and we roared along 
for the finish, Ailsa and Navahoe, like a pair of 
frigate birds, with a German cruiser at the line 
and a brood of destroyers fluttering about her. 
It was half past one now, the stars had gone out, 
the gold clouds signalled the scaling sun; and 
with the sheets as hard as iron tubes, the fine 
little ship covering the miles each in five minutes, 
cut the finish line about one thirty-five, to the 
crack of the cruiser’s gun. 

As soon as we had taken the time, we luffed up 
and got the mainboom inboard and watched the 
club topsail leeches shivering in the cold wind 
as though afraid to come down when the hal¬ 
yards had been cast off. Then the destroyers 
untangled themselves and one steamed over and 
asked us if we would like a tow through 



102 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


the Kiel Canal. Here was veritably a distinction 
—to be hauled into the Baltic Sea by a vessel of 
the Imperial Navy; and by the time that our 
imaginations and fancies had cooled off, the 
vigorous little steel cylinder had seized our tow 
line and headed us for Brunsbiittle, at the South¬ 
erly end of the canal. At nine in the morning 
we passed into the entrance lock, a chamber of 
heavy masonry, where we remained while the 
skipper communed with the authorities, and then 
we started through. To one whose previous 
ideas of a canal were confined to an acquaintance 
with the Suez, no artificial water highroad could 
offer a greater contrast. In the big African 
passageway, the blinding desert, walled in with 
purple mountains quaking in the heat, over¬ 
powers the traveller; and he has but time to note 
the creeping gait of the steamer and the ripples 
washing the ragged banks of the canal, and de¬ 
lights to reach once more the punkah breezes in 
the saloon. 

But the North Sea Canal is built like the 
stone waterways in an English nobleman’s park. 
The clipped grassy banks, green in the Summer 
showers, fall evenly down to the water-line, 
which is paved with heavy granite cubes to 
withstand the wash of steamers. Up and over 



Heligoland Race 


103 


the banks the traveller gazes on miles of generous 
meadow, green as far as the eye may reach, the 
pasture fields for thousands of Holstein cattle, 
piebald and glossy. The tumbling windmills 
grind away the hours in the brilliant air and the 
calling of the birds sounds along the meadows. 
An unclouded sun animates all these pleasant 
scenes, and the craft of many nations glide 
Southward to the North Sea ports. Two immense, 
inspiring bridges unite the banks of this amazing 
canal, the guiding motto of whose engineers must 
have been solidity, and of the incumbent manager, 
cleanliness. Alice herself never passed through 
a more wonderful day than falls to the yachts¬ 
man in the Kiel Canal; and it serves to stimulate 
his fancies for the Kiel week to follow. 

At four in the afternoon we sighted the 
masonry tower that marks the Baltic entrance to 
the canal and shortly afterward passed out of it 
and entered Kiel harbor, and stole up to the big 
iron buoy with “Ailsa” in white paint on the 
sides and passed our hawser through its swiveled 
ring-bolt. 

Kiel, June 21st. We had heard a good deal 
about the Kiel festival before we arrived, but 
the actual proof was one of those rare experiences 
when the reality exceeds the anticipation. Kiel 



104 Race for the Emperor's Cup 


harbor strikes the visitor at once in its resem¬ 
blance to New London; though that grim old 
whaling town even in the convulsions of the 
yacht club cruise never exhibited such magnifi¬ 
cence as Kiel during its ten days of yacht racing; 
though to the mindful observer the racing, 
admirable as it is, dwindles away in the presence 
of the other more interesting human features 
that captivate the visitor. The very climate it¬ 
self is different from anything that we know-. It 
is our large way to brag of our exhilarating 
climate, its vigor, its clarity, its alchemy whereby, 
in a few months, we rebuild the Italian and the 
Slav into fascinating Yankees. But man doesn’t 
know what real electric air is like till he breathes 
it in the Baltic ports in Summer. The blood 
capers in the veins, the cheek reddens like the 
apples of the country, the eye sparkles and one 
long howl of “food” rises from the inner ele¬ 
ments. The desire for sleep vanishes almost en¬ 
tirely; one feels as fresh and keen as a hawk on 
four or five hours of rest a day, and there is 
something happening almost every minute of the 
time. The sun doesn’t set till nine or later and 
at eleven large print can still be read on deck. In 
the Northern sky the red gauze lasts all night. 






UTOWANA 










Heligoland Race 105 

We were the first of the racing fleet to arrive 
at Kiel and we had three or four days for obser¬ 
vation before the Emperor was due and touched 
the button that should start up the energies of 
sport and pleasure. Thirty-five war-ships lay 
swinging to their moorings in the sombre waters 
of Kiel harbor, manned by nineteen thousand 
men, the most powerful and aggressive fleet we 
have ever seen massed together. Their ferocious 
gray hulls and tall stacks held the eye against 
the grassy hills—engines of vengeance amid the 
calm of Nature. There is never a sound from 
the big concourse, at least we haven’t heard any 
yet. It is like the hidden force of a whirling, 
silent fly-wheel, in whose noiseless flight we 
recognize the imprisoned power. Launches dart 
out from the gangways, countless signals flutter 
in the breeze, electric lamps spell their messages 
at night; and still that curious silence. A 
hundred men drill on a first-class battleship hard 
by, and we never hear a sound. There are no 
bells, no calls, no whistles day after day—nothing 
but the magic stillness. Forty liberty men pass 
within ten feet in a huge launch dumb as grave¬ 
stones; nothing audible but the flutter of the 
screw. We are wondering how long this is 



io6 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


going to last, or whether this silence is always 
distinctive of the German Navy. 

Our earliest introduction ;to the wonderful 
thoroughness with which matters are arranged 
here at Kiel was the fact that every American 
yacht is provided with a conspicuously lettered 
buoy to which she made fast upon her arrival 
Quite a chain of these big iron cylinders stretched 
East and West in front of the Bellevue Briicke, 
midway between the canal entrance and the town. 
Here we were entirely severed from the con¬ 
fusion of the great landing floats farther up the 
harbor. We found that the Ailsa’s buoy lay be¬ 
tween the Endymion’s and Hildegarde’s, the 
fourth and fifth boats in the Atlantic race, about 
a hundred yards apart, or with just swinging 
room. Abreast of us and a quarter of a mile or 
so distant rose a rugged hill about level with our 
truck and overhanging the water; forest trees all 
but smothered a pleasant little hotel and band 
stand, where in the afternoons a splendid band 
sent out the folk and student songs over the har¬ 
bor. They often gave us a good deal better music 
than this, too; for German bands and hotel or¬ 
chestras do not pin their popularity to anaemic 
tunes and washy two-steps^ For instance, even in 
New York we scarcely ever hear anything of 



Heligoland Race 


107 


Weber’s; but here, transcriptions of Euryanthe 
and Freischiitz are heard everywhere as well as 
Liszt’s Hungarian rhapsodies, while Schubert’s 
marches and the Military Polonaise of Chopin 
round out programmes which with us would be 
filled with the lean and stringy Debutante’s De¬ 
light and other wonder works. 

Up the harbor about ten o’clock the Kaiser- 
licher Yacht Club and the gardens of the See- 
badeanstalt Hotel burst into flame with a thousand 
electric lamps, and we could see the mass of the 
people rolling and swelling and catch the rich 
trumpet tones of the flagship band under the 
trees. The very first evening we arrived we were 
unable to resist the allurements of the brilliant 
scenes, with the harbor surface writhing in the 
reflected lights. So we ordered out the gig and 
pulled up through the fleet and the 19,000 mutes 
and landed at the Kaiserlicher float and mixed 
with the jolliest and most admirable crowd af¬ 
forded by any country—the multitude of the 
German people. The very essence of content¬ 
ment abides with them like a genius, the china 
pipes of the men sprouting from their flaxen 
beards, both sexes displaying a startling capacity 
for a certain amber fluid. All around, the water¬ 
front boulevard shimmered in the uniforms of 



io8 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


government officers whose braid and buttons 
flashed under the arc lamps as they shouldered 
a path through the throng. 

Now and then when we first landed, some 
petty officer froze at our advance, with a broad, 
brown palm stuck to his cap in a cast-iron salute. 
This we always graciously returned till we dis¬ 
covered later on that an exalted person was 
just behind—a captain or an admiral, or some 
one equally inaccessible. In Germany a uniform 
commands instant respect, so that a man in yacht¬ 
ing vestments upon entering a shop has a power¬ 
ful advantage over the common or garden civilian. 
What an agitation seized the shopkeepers when 
they saw us coming, for they seemed to know us 
in a short while, or else they recognized us as 
helpless aliens. The only German we know is 
“So” and “Sehr Schon.” Now anyone can go 
a long ways in German friendly conversation on 
these three words, for “Sehr Schon” is adaptable 
to many shadings, while the possibilities of “So” 
are inexhaustible; and if one is artful he can 
carry out the bluff quite a distance. Still, it will 
not buy a hat nor a tie; and when the shopkeepers 
insist on a spotted shirt that opens in the back 
instead of a white one opening in front, all one’s 
dexterity won’t save him; and when he has used 



Heligoland Race 


109 


up all his available gestures, there he stands, with 
the clerks huddled around him, just where the 
thing began. Anyone can smash the fable that 
English will take one anywhere in Europe, in less 
than five minutes, in any store at Kiel. 

As the hours passed into days the harbor began 
to fill up with yachts for the Kiel week, so that 
by noon on the day of the Kaiser’s arrival the 
anchorage looked somewhat like Newport with 
the yacht squadron; although it actually obscured 
anything of the kind ever seen in the world. We 
in New York have often wondered at a couple of 
hundred yachts gathered together in one port on 
the annual cruise. But we have never looked on 
a fleet of nearly two score war-ships manned 
by a thousand score of men lying at anchor 
with the yachtsmen, their steam launches as thick 
as bees in the buckwheat and filled with sparkling 
officers. Yet this was the manner of Kiel harbor 
on the twenty-first of June. The day had been 
a warm and clear one and there seemed to be 
an excitement on the men-of-war in spite of 
their sepulchral silence. The still, black water 
turned to milk with the flying launches, and at 
four in the afternoon all hands dressed ship— 
a tumbling mass of flags like a host of giant 
butterflies. The sun was sinking into the Danish 




no The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


coast across the bay and we were making an end 
of a late dinner when the sailing master put his 
head into the companionway and said: “The 
Emperor is coming.” Dessert was forgotten in 
the scramble for the deck and as we looked over 
the taffrail, a great white vessel started across 
the sunset, a golden banner at each masthead. 
Slowly the Imperial yacht flowed out of the canal 
and turned eight points to starboard up into the 
harbor as the first guns of the salute crashed out 
on the nearest battleship. A shouting throng 
covered the canal banks; but as the Hohenzollern 
passed up beyond, a dead calm fell as she swept 
by mirrored in the patent leather in which she 
swam, till the nearest war-ship was abeam. 
Then a shout for the Emperor on the bridge 
jarred the air, the Naval cheer of Germany, while 
the sunset colors streamed up to the zenith over 
the glittering vessel. Presently the second war¬ 
ship was passed, and again that short staccato 
yell like the “Brek-ek-ek-ex” of Aristophanes 
pierced the thunder of the guns; and we could 
follow that lofty white hull gliding far up into 
the anchorage, with the gold flags at the truck, 
till the harbor itself went out in a fog of smoke 
from the batteries. And then the roar of the 
multitudes died away on shore, the sun dipped 



Heligoland Race 


hi 


beyond the loom of Denmark, the twilight breeze 
drove off the stinging smoke clouds and the fleet 
blazed up in profile as ten thousand lamps re¬ 
sponded to the electric key. The majesty of it 
all crushed the senses like a sudden view of 
Kinchinjunga; and all night long the mysterious 
messages winked at the mastheads in a language 
of color all their own, a foreign tongue in red, 
blue and green, a voiceless language spoken only 
in the dark 






KIEL 


WEEK 






CHAPTER III 

KIEL WEEK 


Kiel, June 22d. Velasquez and Wagner 
touched nothing that they did not adorn. Nor 
do the Teuton people. Science, letters, music, 
philosophy, the very life problems yield to their 
searching gaze; for to the genius of the few 
they add the unwearied searchings of the 
many. So in their few years of yachting. A 
decade ago, who ever heard of a German fin 
keel racer, or a racing yacht of any kind? Now, 
you may see them by the score at Kiel, and the 
German designer may yet overhaul his foreign 
rivals. That is, if he wants to. Everything that 
the German undertakes he seems to carry to a 
victorious finish. He is like the ant—he over¬ 
comes by sheer force of industry. The German 
is not by nature a sportsman. He is far too 
preoccupied with the serious ends of life. His 
recreations consist of chess and other for¬ 
midable pastimes. But in spite of this, he 
has, by simple power of purpose, established in 
the third of a generation one of the greatest 


n6 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


yachting centers in the world; and, according to 
the British themselves, he has annihilated the^ 
famous Clyde racing week. So, when the Ger¬ 
mans decided in their inflexible way that they 
would play a hand or two in the game of yachts, 
they did not select a course distinguished for its 
squalls and currents, but they laid off a ten-mile 
triangle on a stretch of water practically without 
tidal movement so far as currents go, and as 
sheltered from the open rage of the Baltic as 
Buzzards Bay is from the Atlantic Ocean. Here 
in Kiel Bay they hold their big regattas in a 
land-wrapped basin, where the daily Sou’west 
breezes are almost too fresh for a club topsail. 

We had our first race to-day and from now 
on we will race on alternate days for nearly a 
fortnight. There were thirty or forty entries, 
big and small, including four ninety-foot yawls. 
These were the Navahoe, now owned by a Ger¬ 
man; the Orion, ex Meteor, designed by Watson 
for the Kaiser, but now owned and always steered 
by Prince Henry; the Komet, ex Thistle, of the 
old Volunteer days, and ourselves. This makes a 
wonderfully fine class by itself—indeed, some¬ 
thing that no other yachting center could boast— 
four nineties in three races a week. Sycamore, 
of Shamrock fame, steered the Navahoe to victory 




Kiel Week 


111 

in to-day’s race, proving that he has parted with 
none of his old-time skill and tricks. Besides 
the big yawl class there are a great many schooner 
entries, the most interesting of which is the 
Hamburg, ex Rainbow, that finished second in 
the ocean race. She is a Watson boat and no 
sailor who ever put his eye on her once will ever 
forget the handsomest yacht’s hull that ever 
slipped off the ways. She never heaves in view 
that people do not follow her out of sight with 
admiring gaze. Off the wind she sails like a 
wraith in both light airs and strong ones; and if 
one or two rumors are to be credited, she should 
have made a better showing than she did in the 
ocean race—should have been closer up to the At¬ 
lantic at the finish. One of these was to the 
effect that one day, in fine weather, one of the 
other racers, a heavy-weather boat, sailing along 
in a moderate breeze under every kite she could 
hoist, overhauled one of her competitors, that 
proved to be the Hamburg, idling along under the 
lower sails. When she found that the stranger 
astern was coming up under her muslin pyramid, 
she clapped on her Summer finery and easily 
scooted ahead out of sight. If this story can be 
verified it shows that the German yachtsmen, 
undeveloped as yet, have not learned that a 



n8 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


yachting victory is won only by driving as cease¬ 
less as the piston-plunges in a liner. A few 
minutes lost here and there during the day by 
crooked steering or by not heeding instantly 
every shift of wind in direction and force may 
mean twenty-four hours at the end of a fortnight. 
Because of this very vigilance our China clippers 
always outsailed any rival pitted against them; 
and it once took the Dreadnought within a few 
miles of Queenstown in nine days and fourteen 
hours from Sandy Hook; she was afterwards 
blown offshore again for several days. 

The American-built schooner Meteor, owned by 
the Emperor, sails against the Hamburg up here 
and they make a spanking brace of flyers, al¬ 
though the Meteor is too heavily built for fine 
work. Another large schooner underway every 
day at Kiel that holds the eye of all American 
yachtsmen is the Iduna, belonging to the Empress. 
She doesn’t enter any of the races, but sails about 
among the fleet, with not the difference of a rope 
yam visible in her looks now and when, as the 
Yampa, she used to soar up past Beaver Tail and 
then haul her wind for the Fort Adams corner. 
Indeed the yachts under the American flag here 
make a wonderfully fine exhibit; and we have 
every reason to feel vain of our showing with 



Kiel Week 


119 

such boats as the Atlantic, Utowana, North Star, 
Alvina and Nahma swinging to their anchors 
in Kiel harbor. 

Perhaps the most astonishing attribute of the 
racing here is the way the sailing directions are 
issued, appearing to us to be the most admirable 
system we have seen yet. Each racing yacht 
receives a thick printed volume with heavy paper 
cover, containing a dozen or more smaller 
pamphlets, one for each individual race, with 
the entries, time allowances and other minutiae 
in large type, each race being bound up in a 
different color, so that there may be no doubt 
for an instant as to which is the race in question. 
After each one is sailed, its individual pamphlet 
is detached from the thick volume and destroyed 
—another illustration of the microscopical 
thoroughness of the Germans. A peculiar de¬ 
tail of another sort in connection with the racing 
that catches the attention of the stranger is the 
torpedo boat that convoys each royal yacht about 
the course. None of them ever stirs from her 
anchorage when a member of the Imperial family 
is aboard without the courtesying attention of 
one of these industrious little craft. 

Kiel, June 24th. Yesterday was an interesting 
day for us, as all those who took part in the 



120 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


Heligoland race were presented to the Emperor. 
We were asked on board the Hohenzollern for 
twelve o’clock; and just as eight bells were struck 
we stepped out of the gig and climbed the two or 
three flights of side ladders to the promenade 
deck. Flights of thickly carpeted stairs they 
really were that led up the side of the great 
vessel, whose freeboard was that of a liner, her 
displacement being about five thousand tons. 
In the stern, elevated on a sort of dais, stood 
the prizes won by the Heligoland contes¬ 
tants, while a few admirals and a number of other 
officers of lesser altitude stood about, to some 
of whom we were introduced while awaiting the 
advent of the Kaiser. Thus we chatted on 
various topics, the eyes of the officers invariably 
directed forward, till unexpectedly their persons 
swelled and hardened, our familiar discourse 
ceased, and, imitating their example, we addressed 
our gaze along the forward passageway, to per¬ 
ceive an imperious figure approaching with 
sinewy stride, every few moments returning the 
salutes of the assemblage. And so swift was 
his walk that before we knew it Wilhelm II. 
had passed by and had assumed a position in the 
stern of the vessel, surrounded by the unveiled 
prizes; and the presentation immediately took 




THISTLE 








Kiel Week 


121 


place. The different groups of men—the owner 
and guests of the respective yachts—filed by and 
as his name was uttered by an aide in the form of 
an admiral, each individual received a strong 
grasp of the hand and a few sentences of wel¬ 
come, wonderfully well chosen. 

One of the best known of living musicians was 
once asked to name the first three great com¬ 
posers. After due meditation he answered: 
“First, Wagner; second, Wagner; third, Wag¬ 
ner.” So, the quality most conspicuous in the Ger¬ 
man Emperor, as we saw him, was an atmosphere 
of genial power first and all the time. The fierce 
battle gleam that streams from all the published 
photographs of Wilhelm II. is remarkable in real 
life entirely by its absence.' When the Emperor 
is before you you are confronted by a man of 
large frame powerfully muscled, for his grip is 
as solid as a wrestler’s and his hand is large and 
encompassing. In height he stands not far from 
six feet and he cants the scale at two hundred 
pounds. His thick chest and shoulders support 
a countenance from which look out the kindest 
blue eyes that ever twinkled at a joke; and of 
all the possible human traits that of self-con¬ 
sciousness seems furthest removed. The broad, 
friendly smile is the greeting of a man unwearied 



122 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


of the world, of a man who has looked out on 
life and fotind it good; a man as natural as 
a law of physics, unhampered by the petty 
miseries of little minds. And as he stands before 
you these thoughts arise: Here is a well- 
tempered man whose brilliant smile dispenses all 
sorts of fun and whose firm jaws at rest 
mark the man of might and action. The 
brows are broad, the face somewhat plump and 
with but an unobtrusive token of the usual 
vehement mustaches—the face of one who lives 
well and delights in his friends and who finds 
that pleasure which strong minds discover in 
the act of existence. 

When the presentation was at an end after 
lasting a quarter of an hour or so, we expected 
to find the admirals imposed along in an inflexible 
front, frozen as to the salute and conversation 
dead and buried. As a matter of truth, the 
Emperor gradually strolled over toward a brass 
stairway leading to an upper deck, talking away 
in his excellent English, clad as he was in white 
duck trousers and double-breasted blue coat, 
grasped the railing, stood for an instant with one 
foot on the step as he finished some blithe jest, 
included the group generally in a wave of his 
arm and stepped nimbly up the stairs with such a 



Kiel Week 


123 


real and candid laugh that made you think: 
Is this the great war chief of Europe? The man 
who directs the history of the German Empire? 
The most powerful soldier of modern times? 
The Emperor, like the lion, showed that he has 
a silken sheath for every claw. 

Kiel, June 26th. Prince Henry gave a garden 
party at the Schloss yesterday, to which all the 
yachtsmen were invited. We arrived at the castle 
about four o’clock and upon surrendering our 
cards to the entrance guards we, together with 
a multitude of the town’s elite, scaled some lofty 
stairs and entered a huge apartment, and joined 
in a long single line that was slowly advancing 
down the salon. It was very warm in the palace 
in spite of the strong breeze that blew the curtains 
about, but it was an interesting moment, and one 
quite worthy of a painter’s brush. Midway down 
the room stood the Prince and Princess, sur¬ 
rounded by a score of officers and aides in blue 
and gold; and as each visitor passed, he or she 
turned and bowed to the group, who returned 
the salute with intense gravity, the guests then 
breaking ranks and strolling about the great 
chamber and so down stairs by another route 
and out into the brilliant gardens of the Schloss. 
Here five or six hundred people were gathered 



124 The Race for the Emperor s Cup 


under the tall forest trees whose tops, a hundred 
feet above the rolling lawns, waved and fluttered 
in the breeze. The broad backs of a cluster of 
men overflowing a little kiosk a hundred yards 
away reminded us also that the god of thirst had 
attacked us, the demon being presently routed 
by draughts of iced champagne by which the 
hungry washed down their little triangular sand¬ 
wiches, when the song of the Rhine maidens 
arose from a huge orchestra far down in a 
grassy vale, whither we directed our steps. There 
were at least a hundred musicians who, during 
the afternoon, played selections from the Nibe- 
lungen Ring, the Ride of the Valkyries coming 
out grandly with the whirring wind and lashing 
tree tops aloft, though it was quite calm in the 
little green glen. 

The whole affair was exceedingly informal 
and again that complete enjoyment which 
the Germans seem to get out of life shone all 
around them as they strolled about the lawns. Of 
rigid ceremony there was none; the Prince and 
Princess, with the Grand Duchess of Schleswig- 
Holstein, talked as unreservedly with their friends 
as though with old, life companions; and the 
function went on with as little restraint and as 
naturally as though it were a children’s party on 



Kiel Week 


125 


the lawn. By and by a slight congestion was 
observed in one corner of the grounds, occasioned 
by the arrival of the Emperor and Empress, who 
appeared on the scene very quietly and at once 
fell to talking with acquaintances who crowded 
about them. Then the guests formed into a 
double line to facilitate matters, through which 
the Kaiser and Kaiserin slowly walked, the Em¬ 
peror greeting the Americans whom he had met 
previously on the Hohenzollern, calling each by 
name, though he had heard the names but once 
before. Indeed this almost uncanny memory of 
the Emperor’s is perhaps his most distinguishing 
trait, at times appearing nearly superhuman. And 
as he moved about, with a little joke for a group 
here and there, smiling and talking with his whole 
countenance, as unconscious of himself as the 
least exalted around him, it required an effort to 
remember that this was the iron-willed monarch 
who is generally pictured to us as one about to 
go forth to slay. Nothing could possibly be fur¬ 
ther from the Emperor’s personal appearance; 
and you are obliged to believe what every navy 
and army officer tells you: That the Kaiser main¬ 
tains the greatest land force of any nation, not 
to conduct war, but in the interests of peace. 



126 The Race for the Emperor s Cup 

No feminine grace could exceed the Empress’s 
as she exchanged greetings with her friends, her 
open and frank countenance holding a dignity 
unusual even among the queens of the earth. 
When the Kaiserin spoke to her subjects it was 
as though a benediction had fallen in a voice so 
courteous and gentle, so free from condescension 
and artifice, that no one wonders why the German 
people very nearly worship her. Nobody ever 
forgets that clear complexion and the steady, 
sad eyes surrounded by the wavy, gray hair. 

That evening we dined at the Kaiserlicher 
Yacht Club, or rather at the restaurant attached 
to, though not a part of it. A glorious view lies 
stretched in front, for the whole harbor extends 
before the eyes, so jammed with all sorts of craft 
from battleship to knockabout that a launch 
even is hard put to successfully clear everything 
when steering through the fleet. At nine-thirty 
the Emperor came ashore to dine at the yacht 
club with some lofty dignitaries, while the men- 
of-war flamed up in their electric raiment; and 
as the Emperor stepped ashore from his launch, 
the heavens split apart in one great streak of 
lightning and a single crash fell that hushed 
the crowds and obliterated the patriotism of the 
bands. Then came the final glory of the evening. 





Kiel Week 


127 


For no sooner had the Emperor disappeared 
within the clubhouse than every war-ship in the 
harbor turned her search-light upon it and kept 
it there for an hour and a half till the Kaiser 
reappeared, when the concentrated beams fol¬ 
lowed him to his launch and so out to the Hohen- 
zollern. It was dazzling, crushing, this terrific 
jumble of lights, forty shafts of blinding glare 
focused on a single building, upon the balcony 
of which we sat overwhelmed and for the time 
sightless. It was as though two score suns scat¬ 
tered in the night sky had ordered vengeance on 
a spot of earth and trained their batteries of fire 
upon it. And all the time the immense fleet stood 
out in their electric robes, outlined in little globes 
of fire; and the bands sounded the Wacht am 
Rhein and Korner’s Battle Song, and the hum of 
the multitude swam around us. And far out in 
the harbor, rising above every object, the Imperial 
Standard in electric lamps at the Hohenzollern’s 
masthead shone like a brooch of jewels in the 
black, as over the hills the storm flew on and the 
spent lightning flared across the clouds over 
against us. 

Travemiinde, June 28th. Early yesterday 
morning we got under way at Kiel to race up to 
this famous North German watering place, 



128 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


eighty miles or so away* It was much like a race 
from Larchmont to New London, except that 
the German coast-line bends away sharply after 
rounding a certain headland, so that the course 
is suddenly altered six or eight points when the 
race is about half over. We had a fair wind, 
sometimes light, sometimes fresh, and arrived at 
Travemiinde at seven in the evening after a sail 
of about ten hours. 

We had imagined that after her great sprint 
across the Western Ocean, the Ailsa would as¬ 
sume that dignity that should accompany the 
brave deeds of which she was the admired hero¬ 
ine. We all remembered how she used to turn 
around against her rudder and bark at us out in 
the Atlantic. We thought, though, that she had 
abandoned all her indiscretions, until, just after 
we had doubled the point alluded to, she lit on 
a crag with a bound like an ibex. The topmast 
shook. “Keep her away there; hard up,” said 
the skipper when the Ailsa had sprung off. But 
we had reckoned without her nimble possibilities. 
For, gathering her long legs under her, she made 
another bound and gained the summit of an even 
loftier eminence, and then passed swiftly along 
the invisible, stony steeps, now hanging for an 
instant on a rocky hillock, now spurning the 




















Kiel Week 


129 


ledges like an impatient steed, till she had pros¬ 
perously cleared every hurdle and settled down 
again on the flat. Such little diversions 
variegate the moments of a long, gentle day and 
illustrate the attainments dormant in a modem 
racing yacht. 

There never was a more curious likeness be¬ 
tween two spots than exists between Travemiinde 
and Port Said. The Trave River is not a great 
deal wider than the Suez Canal, the boats tie up 
right alongside the green banks and there is a 
lighthouse on a jetty, just as at the sinful 
little North African town; while the desert effect 
is wonderfully simulated by a broad stretch of 
sandy marsh, half covered with glistening salt 
water ponds. Only the majesty of traffic is 
lacking at Travemiinde. 

All the yachts make fast to stakes driven into 
the banks, so that at a short distance away they 
seem to be floating on the meadows. They lie 
three or four abreast, too, like the sailing ships 
in the Hooghly at Calcutta, so that people going 
ashore tramp across the decks of the other boats 
and finally walk the plank that reaches to the bank, 
alongside which the water is from fifteen to 
twenty feet deep. A double row of lindens stretch 
along the promenade parallel with the river, under 



The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


which these happy people puff their evening 
pipes and look out at the water scenes that pass 
before their doors. Far off across the salt 
meadows, beyond the winding Trave, they watch 
the shifting hues of the expiring day, and the 
formal windmills turning slowly in the gathering 
dusk. They go to bed early, too, these artless 
folk; and after ten o’clock the lindens guard a 
silent roadway, with the yachts’ bells sounding 
clear and rich across the shadowy marsh. 

Travemimde, June 29th. Yesterday we spent 
at Liibeck, there being no race on for us. We 
went up in a launch, together with the people 
of the Utowana, and spent four hours within 
the ancient city, one of the three free towns 
of Germany, the other two being Hamburg 
and Bremen. Liibeck is twelve miles up the 
Trave River; although with its towers and steep 
roofs lifting out of the marshes, it does not look 
five miles distant. A wonderfully clear sky 
stretched over us as we departed in the launch; 
and the two-hour run up against the current and 
around the sharp angles of the channel, with the 
copper spires of the city growing ever clearer, 
was far too short for the enjoyment of so perfect 
a day. By and by the banks grew higher—little 
tablelands of tufted sand—till on a sudden the 




Kiel Week 


131 

town burst on us and we passed on as in a 
deep canal with the stone houses and mills grow¬ 
ing up boldly out of the black water. Under low 
masonry bridges we swept along till the center 
of the town was reached and landed at a long, 
narrow float, while the populace gathered to gape 
at our tall, thin funnel of glittering brass. Then 
beneath a massive, square brick gateway, four 
hundred and fifty years old, we bent our course 
for the Dom Kirche of Spartan simplicity as to 
the interior, with spotless white walls bridged 
at immense heights with heavy trusses of timber, 
age-blackened and sombre. A veritable delight 
to sit within these cool, towering walls, away 
from the dusty dazzle of the streets, and picture 
to yourself the gorgeous designs and sculptures 
that abounded here before the reign of Luther. 

Yet the dead black and white strikes upon the 
fancy a note of awe in its severity as the eye 
travels up into the ghostly wastes of the transept; 
and Bach and Albrechtsberger fill the mind and 
you can almost hear the counterpoint of the 
Master of Eisenach rolling through those lonely 
aisles. And the organ. There it hangs in the air, 
bold and grand, the only spot of color in the 
building, its pipes of gold and blue soaring up 
out of the antique, blackened case. It is not 



132 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


thrust away in a gloomy alcove showing but 
the front rank of its pipes, but juts bravely into 
space above the Gothic doorway; while on 
the Sabbath peals from its open diapasons: Eine 
Feste Burg ist unser Gott. 

This was the day set apart for the annual visit 
of Prince Henry to the Burgomaster of Liibeck, 
and we all dined together in a subterranean ban¬ 
quet hall at the Rathaus at two o’clock, our party 
of a score or more at one table, long and narrow 
like a plank, Prince Henry’s separated from ours 
by a series of low, pointed arches. Between the 
two a large orchestra throughout the dinner 
played from Lohengrin and the Meistersinger. 
The repast itself, eaten amid the ancient walls 
of the city hall, many yards below the street 
surface, was perhaps the most unique experience 
of the whole trip. Almost every dish was un¬ 
known to us and we dipped into the delicacies 
set in compartments in big wooden whirligigs, 
without the faintest notion of their original 
source. Curious salted meats and fish seemed 
to prevail, though it was but guesswork at best 
to tell what they were. 

This was a red wine cellar; and fore and aft 
the table’s length stood battalions of thin-necked 
bottles, uncorked and inviting attention. Huge 



Kiel Week 


133 


crystal goblets holding hard upon a quart lay 
at each plate and by and by peaches were passed 
around the board, which we stabbed full of fork 
holes and placed in the goblets before filling them 
with bubbling Moselle, the wine drawing up the 
flavor of the peach throughout its golden depths. 
Liqueurs of poignant taste in spindling glasses 
succeeded the cups of rich coffee, as the orchestra 
sounded the first chords of Liszt’s Second Rhap¬ 
sody, with the beams from the candles in the 
iron chandeliers glittering upon the humid 
masonry, like the nitre shining with the light 
of the flambeaux of the wine caverns in Poe. 

The sunlight almost staggered us after those 
chilly depths, though the fresh oxygen tasted 
good in the mouth, and we drove back to the 
landing stage steeped in the essence of the Middle 
Ages; and all the way down the river, to the 
churning of the launch, our thoughts returned to 
the steepled city slowly settling into the emerald 
marsh, and to its knightly defenders going out 
to battle seven hundred years ago for pleasant 
Lubeck. 






' 

- 




































































































THE LOGS 





























CHAPTER IV 


ATLANTIC 

Three-masted schooner owned by Wilson 
Marshall, Esq., New York Yacht Club. Guests 
on board, Dr. F. B. Downs, H. A. Bergmann, 
L. B. Ostrander, Frederick M. Hoyt, C B. Seeley 
and Morton W. Smith. Captain, Charles Barr. 

May 15th. 5:30 p. m. boarded ship and took 

final stores on board. 6 p. m. weather generally 
overcast; moderate Southeasterly breeze; fog 
banks off there. 8 p. m. thunderstorm with light 
rain, which continued all night. 10 p. ms 
the Valhalla, Endymion, Hildegarde and Utowana 
anchored in the Horseshoe. 

May 16th. 6 a. m. calm with light rain. 8 
a. m. moderate Easterly breeze and thick fog. 
10 a. m. heavy fog; took water aboard. 12 m. 
similar conditions* 2 p. m. heavy fog and occa¬ 
sional showers. 4130 p. m. start postponed until 
noon of 17th. 6 p. m. clearing inside the Horse¬ 
shoe, but still thick outside. 8 p. m. fog still 
thick, heavy showers* 10 p. m. similar con¬ 
ditions. 12 p. m. clearing somewhat* 


138 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


May 17th. Fresh Easterly breeze; thick 
outside; fresh breeze; similar conditions; took 
on board five tons pig lead. 10:30 a. m. hove 
up and proceeded in tow for Sandy Hook Light- 
vessel; set full canvas. 12:16 p. m. crossed line 
on port tack; light breeze; moderate Easterly 
breeze and sea, hazy. 12:45 p. m. breeze in¬ 
creasing took in staysails, setting them later; 
took departure from Sandy Hook Lightvessel; 
bearing N.N.Ws, distance 4 miles; fresh breeze, 
hazy. 5 p. m. took in staysails; took in jib 
topsail; sea making up. 7 p. m. set jib to topsail ; 
8 p. m. occasional showers and fog; similar 
weather; set both topsails; light breeze and fog; 
fog very thick; S. Y. Oneida alongside at 12:30 
a. m. 

May 18th. 1 a. m. tacked ship to Northward. 
1 45 a. m. tacked ship to Southward; calm, thick 
fog; strong breeze and heavy fog; wind moder¬ 
ating and hauling Easterly; set mizzen staysail; 
set main topsail; fresh breeze; moderate sea; 
took in baby and set No. 1 jib topsail; made 
schooner yacht Hamburg on lee beam, distant 
6 miles; fresh breeze; breeze moderating; set 
balloon staysails at 39 0 46' N., long. 69° 50' W.; 
wind light. 4:40 p. m. set spinnaker to port. 
4:45 p. m. took in mizzen staysail. 7:30 p. m. 



The Logs 


139 


jibed over; course E. S*; fresh breeze; smooth 
sea. 9130 p. m. set smaller staysail; moderate 
breeze; fine clear weather; Pole Star 40° 1' N. 

May 19th. Set balloon staysail; fine clear 
weather. 8 a. m. breeze increasing; sea smooth; 
fine weather; took in staysails; fresh breeze; 
moderate sea; split main topsail; bent new one; 
took in spinnaker; tore it badly; set squaresail 
and raffee; fresh breeze; moderate sea; took 
in mainsail; fresh breeze and clear weather. 
2 p. m. wind and sea increasing; strong breeze; 
similar conditions. 7 p. m. wind and sea moder¬ 
ating; light breeze; moderate sea. 9 p. m. fine 
clear weather; overcast; light breeze. 

May 20th. 1 a. m. fair weather, fresh breeze; 

clear moderate breeze; set mainsail; wind haul¬ 
ing Southerly; set both staysails; set jib topsail 
and jib. 8 a. m. light breeze, smooth sea; set 
balloon main topmast staysail; took in raff ee and 
squaresail and set spinnaker; fresh breeze; 
spoke Red Line S. S. bound W.; took in spin¬ 
naker, balloon staysail, jib topsail and mizzen 
topsail. 4 p. m. nasty Easterly swell; fresh S.W. 
breeze; set topsails and small staysails; spoke 
S. S- Minnetonka bound W.; set squaresail and 
raffee; passed by Campania bound W.; took 
in light sails and clewed up topsail. 8:30 p. m. 



The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


heavy S.W. squall; took in spanker and mainsail. 
9:15 p. m. set sails again; exchanged signals 
with White Star steamer bound W.; moderate; 
overcast. 

May 21st. Set squaresail; light S.W. breeze- 
1:50 a. m. jibed over; took in topsails and 
squaresail; fresh N.W. breeze; set topsails; 
smooth sea; set main topsails; set baby 
jib topsail and mizzen staysail. 7 a. m- 
fresh breeze; smooth sea; fair clear weather; 
moderate sea; fresh breeze. 1 p. m. took in 
balloon main topmast staysail and set working 
sail; light breeze. 2:50 p. m. passed) White 
Star liner supposed Arabic bound W-; light 
breeze; smooth sea; log 96^; position 41 0 16' 
N., 53 0 48' W.; wind taking off; fine clear sun¬ 
set; calm. 8 p. m. took in balloon main top 
staysail and set working sail; calm; hauled in 
sheets to avoid slatting; took in jib topsail, stay¬ 
sails and topsails; light air. 12 p. m. set square¬ 
sail; set raffee. 

May 22d. Calm; just steering away; took 
in squaresail and raffee and set topsail, staysails 
and baby jib topsail. 3 a. m. light whole-sail 
breeze; light air astern. 7 a. m. calm; catspaw 
forms. 11130 a. m. took in mainsail; set balloon 
mizzen topmast staysail; set balloon jib topsail; 



The Logs 


141 

light Southerly air, smooth sea. 2:30 p. m. set 
spinnaker. 3 p. m. took it in; took in balloon 
mizzen topmast staysail and set mainsail and 
working staysail. 4 p. m. balloon jib tack parted; 
set all head sails and working topsail; took in 
main topsail, wind coming in gusts; hazy and 
dark; passed an iceberg one mile to leeward; 
clewed up mizzen topsail; took in baby jib top¬ 
sail; fresh breeze, smooth sea. 

May 23d. Fresh breeze, smooth sea; fair clear 
night, cold; set baby jib topsail; passed 
large iceberg, lat. 42° 20' N., long. 48° 30' W.; 
unbent main topsail and bent spare one; took 
down mizzen topsail and cut a cloth out of leech. 
12 m. fair weather, fresh breeze; fine weather, 
fresh Southerly breeze; took in baby and set 
working jib topsail; passed a schooner bound 
N.N.W., 42 0 50' N., 45 0 38' W.; fine weather, 
fresh breeze; passed mailing vessel bound W. 
Changed jib topsails; fine weather, smooth sea. 

May 24th. 1 a. m. fine night, fresh breeze; 

smooth sea; took in mizzen staysail; fine 
weather, breeze increasing; wind hauling West¬ 
erly; took in mizzen topsail. 6 a. m. fine morn¬ 
ing ; strong breeze; took in mizzen staysail; passed 
a sailing vessel steering N.W.; set mizzen stay¬ 
sail and baby jib topsail; exchanged signals with 



142 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


S. S. Monteaghe, bound West; took in baby and 
set jib topsail; strong breeze; made record 
day’s run for a yacht in North Atlantic passage ; 
fresh breeze, overcast; breeze increasing; took 
in mizzen topsail and staysail; wind and sea in¬ 
creasing; took in main staysail, and clewed up 
main topsail; took in jib topsail and double-reefed 
spanker; clewed up fore topsail; wind increasing. 

8 p. m. called watch and took in spanker, jib and 
flying jib; bent mizzen trysail; heavy sea and 
Southerly gale blowing; wind and sea increasing. 

May 25th. 1 a. m. took in foresail and main¬ 

sail and set fore and mizzen trysails; moderate 
gale and sea; ship taking no water on board; 
wind moderating; set single-reefed mainsail; took 
in fore trysail and set foresail; shook out reef 
in mainsail and set fore topsail; rain and fog. 

9 a. m. set squaresail and raffee; strong breeze; 
sea increasing; occasional rain; set mizzen top¬ 
mast staysail; strong breeze; sea increasing; more 
regular; ship running easily; wind increasing; 
took in staysails and raffee; clewed up fore and 
main topsails; took in mizzen trysail and set it 
up in stops. 8 p. m. strong wind with rain and 
heavy sea; vessel running well; similar conditions. 

May 26th. Strong winds and heavy follow¬ 
ing sea. 3 a. m. set raffee, fore topsail and mizzen 



The Logs 


143 


trysail; wind moderate, high sea; oil bags out; 
vessel rolling heavily. 4:40 a. m. set main top¬ 
sail. 6:20 a. m. set mizzen staysail. 7:20 a. m. 
hauled it down. 11 a. m. wind hauling aft, took 
in fore topsail and foresail and set port raffee; 
cloudy, with strong wind and heavy sea; wind 
and sea increasing; similar conditions. 3 p. m. 
took in main topsail and mainsail; set fore try¬ 
sail; set mizzen trysail in stops; took in jib; 
whole gale and heavy sea; similar conditions; 
wind and sea increasing; similar conditions; rain 
squalls during watch; wind moderating, clear 
night. 

May 27th. Ship rolling heavily, strong wind 
and heavy sea; similar conditions; set double- 
reefed mainsail and jib; strong wind and high 
sea; double-reefed foresail. 7 a. m. strong wind 
and high sea; set foresail; set double-reefed 
mainsail; wind moderating; took in squaresail; 
heavy sea, vessel rolling heavily. 12 m. wind 
and sea moderating; clear afternoon; strong 
breeze and heavy sea; shook reefs out of fore¬ 
sail. 3 p. m. sea moderating, shook reefs out 
of mainsail. 4 p. m. fine weather. 4:20 p. m. log 
34/4 lat. 49 0 3' N., long. 19 0 33' W. 6 p. m. set 
fore and main topsail. 7 p. m. set flying jib. 
8 p. m. occasional squalls from S.W. 9 p. m. 



144 The Race for the Emperor s Cup 


sea moderate. 9:30 p. m. set main and mizzen 
staysails; wind hauling to Southward; fine clear 
night. 

May 28th. 2 a. m. rain squalls during watch. 

3 a. m. fresh breeze and moderate sea. 4 a. m. 
similar conditions. 5 a. m. set jib topsail. 6 a. ms 
fresh breeze, moderate sea. 7 a. m. took in both 
staysails. 8 a. m. strong breeze, moderate sea. 
9 a. m. similar conditions. 10 a. m. similar con¬ 
ditions. 11 a. m. set mizzen staysail. 12 m. fresh 
breeze, took in staysails. 1 p. m. fresh breeze, 
sea moderating. 2 p. m. wind and sea moderat- 
ing. 2130 p. m. set double-reefed spanker. 4 
p. m. took in mizzen topmast staysail. 5 p. m. 
fresh breeze, moderate sea. 6 p, m. overcast, 
occasional rain. 7:30 p. m. set mizzen topmast 
staysail. 8 p. m. moderate breeze, heavy clouds. 

9 p. m. a French Line steamer abeam, bound E. 

10 p. m. exchanged signals 3 miles South. 11 
p. m. squally; took in staysails, topsails and jib. 
12 m. heavy rain, strong breeze; took in spanker; 
got 65 fathoms on lead. 

May 29th. 1 a. m. spanker boom lift bolt 

broke; repaired it and set sail. 2 a. m. set main 
and fore topsail. 3 a. m. fresh breeze, smooth 
sea. 4 a. m. set mizzen topsail and staysail. 
5 a. m, fine weather. 6 a. m. took in baby and 






IDUNA 























The Logs 


145 


set No. 1 jib topsail. 7 a. m. moderate breeze, 
smooth sea. 7:40 a. m. made Bishop’s Rock 
light. 9136 a. m. G. M. T. Bishop’s light abeam, 
log 73; passage 11 days, 16 hours and 22 
minutes. 11 a. m. wind light, sea smooth. 12 m. 
set spinnaker and balloon main topmast stay¬ 
sail. 1 p. m. very light airs from Westward. 
2 p. m. spinnaker in and out often. 3 p. m. 
similar condition. 2 145 Admiralty tug informed 
us that no yacht had finished. 3 130 p. m. made 
German cruiser Pfeil anchored off Lizard. 8:30 
ps m. Pfeil hoisted our number and signal to 
congratulate us; we answered thanks. 9:16:19 
p. m. G. M. T. crossed the finish line and re¬ 
ceived winning guns; headed up channel E. Y\ 
S., light winds. 



146 The Race for the EmperoTs Cup 


HAMBURG 

Two-masted schooner, owned by German 

Syndicate. Managing owner, Adolf Tietjens. 
Captain, Peters. 

May 17th. Wind E. by N, 3, bar. 29.58; 

overcast; all lower sails and jib topsail 

No. 2, main topmast staysail No. 3, fore 
and main jib-headed topsails; close-hauled 
on port tack, heading S.E. y 2 E. 12 m. 

worked into position for the start, keeping close 
to the committee steamer, the Easterly position; 
gunfire at 12:15 p. m.; crossed the line about 
two minutes later, covered by the Utowana, who 
had passed the committee steamer on the wrong 
side; Hildegarde leading to leeward, followed by 
the Ailsa well on the weather side, the Atlantic 
close behind her, the Endymion and Hamburg 
several lengths in the rear; we soon sailed through 
the lee of the Utowana and also of the Endymion; 
as soon as we had gathered way on our yacht, 
we passed the Hildegarde and after a while the 
Ailsa and settled down for the struggle with the 
leading yacht Atlantic; the freshening breeze in- 



The Logs 


14 7 


duced the Atlantic to haul down both her topmast 
staysails, while we kept up ours, but taking off 
our jib topsail at 5 p. m. and before an hour had 
elapsed we gained the weather side of the Atlantic 
and slowly drew ahead, leaving the Ailsa, Hilde- 
garde, Endymion and the other yachts way be¬ 
hind us; a steam yacht with fore and main stay¬ 
sails, the last of the accompanying yachts, could 
not quite keep up the pace of our yacht; at 9 
p. m. we had a good lead on the Atlantic with 
every prospect of a fine race with her, if wind and 
weather continued the same. At 10 p. m. a fog 
prevented further observation of our relative 
positions; the wind failed during the night, 
freshening a little in the morning. 

May 18th. Lat. 39 0 39' N., long. 71 0 1' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 142; wind 
variable, foggy and hazy, sometimes calm; bar. 
29.45. At noon when the fog lifted for a while 
we noticed a yacht right ahead of us and another 
yacht behind us, but could not tell who they 
were. 5 p. m. set squaresail. 10 p. m. set jib 
topsail No. 1 and furled squaresail. 

May 19th. Lat. 39 0 48' N., long. 66° 20' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 216; wind 
W., bright sunshine. 7 a. m. set mainmast spin¬ 
naker on starboard. 11 a. m. breeze freshened; 



148 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


took in spinnaker; set squaresail. 9 a. m. N. G. 
Lloyd steamer Grosser Kurfiirst,Eastward bound, 
passed us, exchanging signals. 11 a. m. when 
we took in spinnaker, the Endymion followed suit. 

12 m. the Endymion passed us, sailing now on 
our port side half a mile ahead, when she had set 
her squaresail and raffee she gradually widened 
her lead to about 23/2 miles. At 4130 p. m. wind 
right aft, we set mainmast spinnaker again and 
ran up to the Endymion, passing her at 9 p. m., 
a capital race in a fresh breeze; our log showed 

13 knots. At daybreak discovered a yacht on 
our starboard quarter about 3 miles off with 
spinnaker and bowsprit spinnaker steadily gain¬ 
ing on us; afterward found out she was the 
Endymion. 

May 20th. Lat. 39 0 54' N., long. 61 0 35' W. ; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 219; light 
Westerly breeze. 4:30 p. m. squally, showers in 
the evening, before midnight took off both our 
topsails; sea increasing. 12 m. jibed; wind West; 
in the course of the forenoon the Endymion went 
into the front again on our starboard side. 4:30 
p. m, the wind became fresher and 2 points more 
Southerly; away our yacht went, all headsails 
drawing nicely; log 12 knots, 13 knots, 13^ 
knots; we left Endymion in grand style and 



The Logs 


149 


before dusk she was nearly out of sight; a fine 
race so far. 

May 21st. Lat. 39 0 49' N., long, 56° 13' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 247; wind 
moderate from N.W., in afternoon it fell calm; 
a miserable day for racing. 8 p. m. a very soft 
Northerly air sprung up hardly filling our flap¬ 
ping sails. At daybreak nothing to be seen of 
Endymion. At noon passed a buoy 7 feet 
diameter, apparently a gas buoy, black and red, 
half a mile North of our course. 

May 22d. Lat. 39 0 53' N., long. 52 0 42' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 169; carried all 
light sails, also balloon main topmast staysail; 
wind very light from N, to N.N.E., clear and 
warm; dead calm in the afternoon. 9-12 p. m. 
wind S.S.E. very light; log 5 to 8 knots; no vessel 
in sight until 9 a. m., when a steamer came up, 
whose signals we could "not recognize on account 
of the distance; saw many whales spouting; ex¬ 
traordinarily clear; a large circle around the sun. 
5 p. m. a steamer of the American Line East¬ 
ward bound passed us, her wishes for a good 
voyage were duly answered by us; dead calm, 
swell going down. 6 p. m. a very light Southerly 
breeze set in and gave us good headway; after 
a while wind drew more forward; had to lower 



150 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


balloon main staysail; wind varying all night in 
weight and also several points in direction. 

May 23d. Lat. 40° 25' N., long. 49 0 19' W. ; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 160; wind S,E.; 
all sails set, close-hauled; temperature of the air 
7 a, m. 19 0 C., 8 a. m. 12 0 C., temperature of the 
water 8 a. m. n° C; hazy; saw an iceberg in 
N. by E. At 10 a. m. Corner 10 miles distant, 
passed some floating ice near by. At 12 m. 
sighted another iceberg in N. by W.; log 8 to 10 
knots; horizon ahead clearing; haze in S.E. At 
4 p. m. temperature 12 0 C. 5 p. m. changed 
our course to E. by S., though enjoying a nice 
breeze which made the yacht heel; the surface 
of the sea was as smooth as a pond. At 5 p. m. 
passed the sharply cut hazy cloud on our star¬ 
board, no doubt occasioned by ice. 5 130 p. m. 
temperature suddenly rose to 20° C., and signs 
of a lively breeze were again visible on the 
water; a large two-funnel four-mast grey steamer 
drew up on our starboard side and signalled as 
follows: 5 130, Greenwich time, passed the Endy- 
mion abeam; 6:37, Greenwich time, passed the 
Ailsa abeam; ship’s time was 6 p.m.—9I1. Gr. time. 
We figured the speed of the steamer at 15 knots 
and estimated Endymion to have run at 10 
knots, difference 5 knots, for 3 hours and 30 



The Logs 


I5i 

minutes, equal to 17*^ miles astern; Ailsa sup¬ 
posed to have run 10 knots, difference 5 knots, for 
2 hours and 23 minutes, equal to 11 miles; we ex¬ 
pressed our thanks for these communications 
by signals; our yacht walking at this time 1334 
knots; some people on board of this steamer 
apparently must have been very much interested 
in this ocean race; the steamer keeping still on 
our starboard side, shaped her course to the 
South; we suggested she had discovered another 
sail which she was going after; during the night 
wind freshened, we never logged less than 13 
knots, sometimes up to 1534 knots in the fore¬ 
noon of the next day; lee deck constantly awash 
under the press of sails. 

May 24th. Lat. 42 0 38' N., long. 43 0 21' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 303; sea in¬ 
creasing. 1145 p. m. stowed jib topsail. 2 130 p. m. 
stowed main topmast staysail No. 3. 3 130 p. m. 
stowed main topsail; carried all lower sails and 
fore topsail; wind S.E. by S- 5 in the afternoon, 
S. and S.S.W. 6 to 7 during the afternoon; tor¬ 
rents of rain; bar. from 30 falling to 29.10. 9 p. m. 
wind moderating, set main topsail and jib top¬ 
sail; plenty of water on deck. 

May 25th. Lat. 44 0 54' Ns, long. 37 0 3' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 306; wind S. 



152 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


S.W. 6, overcast, some rain; bar. 29.40; high sea 
running. 2 p. m. stowed both topsails and 
squaresail. 5 p. m. close-reefed mainsail to keep 
the yacht before the sea; set fore staysail; wind 
S.W. 7130 p. m. close-reefed foresail and stowed 
fore staysail; a moderate gale blowing with rain 
squalls; yacht working heavily. 10 a. m. steamer 
Celtic passed us, bound West. 1 p. m. a two 
yellow funnel steamer passed us, bound West. 

May 26th. Lat. 47 0 15' N., long 31 0 31' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 272. 3 130 a. m, 
set squaresail; 7 a. m. put one reef out of foresail. 
9 a. m. lowered close-reefed mainsail 4 feet to 
keep the yacht before the sea during the heavy 
squalls; plenty of water on deck; a terribly high 
sea running; used oil to prevent the sea from 
breaking. 8 p. m. stowed foresail. 10 p. m. 
took in squaresail; bar. 29.18. 

May 27th. Lat. 49 0 26' N., long. 26° 9' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 253; wind W. 
by S. 5 to 6 from 1 to 8 a. m., S,W. by W. 6 
squally from 9 a. m. to 12 m., W.S.W. 6 from 1 
to 4 p. m., S.W. 8 from 5 p. m, to 12 m.; bar. 
29.30. 2 p. m. jibed; course E.S.E. 7 p. m. stowed 
squaresail; keeping the yacht before the breaking 
high sea for the last two days we had reached a 
latitude more Northerly than intended, but the 












I 


KOMET 








The Logs 


153 


steering required every precaution to avoid a 
jibe and broaching to. 

May 28th. Lat. 49 0 54' N., long. 18 0 41' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 292. 3 a. m. 
set fore staysail single-reefed. 6 p. m. carried full 
mainsail, staggering along under a press of sails. 
10 p. m. put the reef out of foresail; wind S.W. 
to S.S.W. 7, moderating to 6 at 2 p. m. and to 
5 at 6 p. m. 9 p. m. clear sky; bar. steadily 
rising, 29.71 at noon; wind and sea decreasing. 

May 29th. Lat. 49 0 59' N., long. io° 35' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 312. 1 a. m. put 
reef out of fore staysail. 3 a. m. set fore and 
main topsails. 7 a. m. set main topmast staysail 
No. 2^ 9130 a. m. set jib topsail No. 2; wind S.W. 
5 to 3 in the forenoon, 3 to 2 in the afternoon; 
clear sky; wind and sea decreasing; bar. 29.96; 
passed several steamer^ outward bound; asked 
one of them by signal if she had met yachts, to 
which she replied, yes, three-masted schooner— 
no doubt the Atlantic. 

May 30th. Lat. 49 0 46' N., long. 6° 13' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon, 161; wind S., 
very light from 1 to 4 a. m., more Westerly from 
5 to 8 a. m., dying away by and by; during the 
voyage jib No. 2 never was shifted, as we were 
not compelled to heave to; our little ship stood 



154 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


the sea remarkably well. 4 a. m. set balloon 
main staysail. 5 a. m. set main tackyard topsail. 
6 a. m. set mainmast spinnaker; off Wolf Rock 
met with the steamer Lady of the Isles who had 
several gentlemen of the American Press on 
board, they kindly helped us in forwarding mes¬ 
sages to Germany; we also had some friendly 
talk about our log; passed the finishing line, due 
South of Lizard lighthouse at 7127 p. m. Green¬ 
wich time; no accident occurred during the trip. 



The Logs 


155 


VALHALLA 

Full rigged ship owned by the Earl of Craw¬ 
ford. Guests on board, the Hon. W. Cornfield, 
the Hon. Reginald Boughton, and Messrs. North 
and Wilbraham. Captain, J. Caws. 

Unfortunately no copy of the Valhalla’s log 
has been available, the days’ runs and the noon 
positions being the sum total of all obtainable 
information. The remarks include the interest¬ 
ing fact that this yacht did not encounter heavy 
weather during the race. When Lord Crawford 
had been told at the finish that the Atlantic had 
passed safely through a heavy gale of wind, he 
was very much surprised, asserting that he had 
seen nothing but fine weather, which was cer¬ 
tainly a very remarkable circumstance, inasmuch 
as the Valhalla could not have been very far dis¬ 
tant from the other competitors at the time. Her 
owner also said that the Valhalla would have 
made a much better showing against the Atlantic 
if she had found more wind throughout the 
passage. This is evident when the size and rig 
of the vessel is considered, for she could run 



156 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


with comfort when almost any other vessel in 
the fleet would lie hove to. The topgallant sails 
were not clewed up throughout the race, and for 
sixty hours, or two and one-half days, they were 
becalmed. On the fifth day out the Valhalla 
passed the Ailsa, unknown to the latter yacht. 
Her best day’s run was 310 miles, an average for 
the twenty-four hours of practically thirteen 
knots. Had she experienced what to her would 
have been a strong gale of wind, she would un¬ 
doubtedly have surpassed the Atlantic’s run of 
341 miles. 



The Logs 


157 


ENDYMION 

Two-masted schooner, owned by Geo. Lauder, 
Jr., Indian Harbor Yacht Club. Guests on board, 
Joh# R. Buchan, Richard Armstrong, Richard 
Sheldon, Jasper M. Rowland, Dr. Henry C. Row¬ 
land. Captain, James A. Loesch. 

May 17th. Took departure from Sandy 
Hook Lightship at 12:16 p. iru under all plain 
sail on port tack; wind East; course S.E. S. 
1130 p. m. tacked ship; course N.E. J 4 E. 3 
p. m. tacked ship; course S.E. y 2 E.; strong 
breeze, choppy sea, toward night thick fog and 
breeze moderating. 

May 18th. Midnigfy: to 4 a. m. thick fog 
and showers. 8 a. m. set balloon staysail; winds 
baffling, W.N.E to N.N.W.; course E. y 2 S.; 
weather clearing; position by observation at noon 
lat, 39 0 44' N., long. 70 0 39' W.; distance 150 
miles. 

May 19th. Clear weather; course E. by S.; 
wind S.W. 8 a. m. passed yacht Hamburg to 
Northward of us about 5 miles; seeing our spin¬ 
naker they set theirs. 1 p. m. sea rough and 



158 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


breeze strengthening; took in spinnaker and set 
squaresail and raffee; carried away yard; used 
broken spar and reset squaresail and raffee; 
while making repairs Hamburg passed us. 
9 p. m. Hamburg on starboard beam; took in 
squaresail and set spinnaker and balloon main top¬ 
mast staysail and balloon jib topsail; position 
by observation lat. 39 0 46' N., long. 66° 20' W.; 
distance 200 miles. 

May 20th. Weather fine, light W,S.W. 
breeze. 9 a. m. Hamburg on our port bow. 2 
p. m. wind hauled S.W.; took in spinnaker; 
Hamburg about 7 miles astern. 4 p. m. took in 
all light sails; wind freshening. 9 p. m. set 
squaresail and raffee; lowered mainsail and set 
gaff-trysail. 10 p. m. lowered gaff-trysail and 
set mainsail; heavy sea with squalls and rain; 
position by observation at noon lat. 39 0 54' N., 
long. 61 0 41' W.; distance 214 miles. 

May 21 st. 2 a. m. jibed ship; wind N. by W.; 
set topsails, balloon jib, balloon staysail and 
balloon main topmast staysail 9 30 a. m. 
S. S. Consuelo of Hull passed within hail¬ 
ing distance; she reported having passed 
Sunbeam in long, 62° W. at 4 p. m., May 20th. 
11 a. m. light Northerly air. 7 p. m. practically 
becalmed since 1 p. m. 8 p. m. flat calm; yacht 



The Logs 


159 


rolling heavily; position at noon by observation 
lat. 39° 58' N., long. 56° 22' W.; distance 243 
miles. 

May 22d. 3 a* m. took in mainsail, heavy 

roll, no wind. 4 a. m. sighted Ailsa astern. 5 a. m, 
sighted from masthead what appeared to be the 
Valhalla, hull down astern; no wind. 8 a. m. 
light air from S.E.; course E. 9 a. m. Ailsa 
abeam 3 miles to Southward; she signalled, but 
we could not make them out on account of glare 
on water. 9:30 a. m. S. S. St. Louis, bound E., 
passed within hailing distance. 10 a. m. Val¬ 
halla visible from deck. 12 m. breeze freshen¬ 
ing; course N. 70° E. up. m. sighted steamer 
and signalled; weather rainy and squally; lat. 
by observation at noon 40° N., long. 55 0 5' W.; 
distance 59 miles. 

May 23d. 4 a. m. wind increasing S.S.E. 

6 a. m. Ailsa ahead about 7 miles. 8 a. m. clewed 
up topsails. 9 a. m. reefed mainsail. 11 a. m. 
sighted iceberg on port bow, estimated about 
200 feet high. 1 p. m. shook reef out of mainsail, 
set topsails and No. 2 jib topsail. 10 p. m. al¬ 
tered course to N. 74 0 E.; cloudy weather; wind 
strong S. by E.; lat. by observation at noon 40 0 
40' N., long. 49 0 39' W.; distance 253 miles; 



160 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


from Sandy Hook Lightvessel 1,065 miles; to 
Lizard Light N* 74 0 E. 2,008 miles. 

May 24th. 10130 a. m. sighted S. S. Oceanic, 

bound W., signalled “sighted Hamburg one hour 
ago.” 11:30 a. m. wind increasing; reefed 
mainsail. 3 p. m. sighted S. S. St. Paul, bound 
West. 4 p. m. sighted large steamer to leeward, 
bound West. 6 p. m. wind S.S.W., strong; rainy 
and cloudy weather; set squaresail. 8 p. m. set 
ring tail; very heavy sea. 10 p. m. set raffee; 
lat. by observation at noon 41 0 59' N., long. 44 0 
27' W.; 246 miles. 

May 25th. 1130 a. m. took in raffee; blow¬ 

ing hard; heavy sea. 8130 a. m. sighted oil tank 
steamer, bound East, dead ahead. 10:30 a. m. 
oil tank steamer abeam; put double reef in main¬ 
sail and took in ring tail. 5 p. m. signalled 
Dominion steamer, bound East. 5 :30 p. m. set 
raffee. 8 p. m. jibed ship. 10 p. m. raining 
hard and wind freshening; lat. by dead reckon¬ 
ing 44 0 6' N., long. 38° 31' W.; 291 miles. 

May 26th. 4 a. m. carried away band at fore 

masthead holding jib stay; took in jib and balloon 
staysail, ring tail, squaresail and raffee. 8 a. m. 
repaired jib stay; set squaresail and raffee; 
strong winds with rain squall; very heavy seas. 
11 a. m. gale increasing; split fore topsail; took 




The Logs 


161 


in fore topsail and mainsail. 6 p. m. repaired and 
set fore topsail. 9 p. m. carried away raffee. 11 
p. m. repaired and reset raffee; lat. at noon by 
observation 45 0 26' N., long. 33 0 2' W.; distance 
246 miles; course N. 71 0 E. 

May 27th. 8 a. m. weather clear, heavy seas; 

set double-reefed mainsail; wind strong, W. 10 
a. m. shook one reef out of mainsail. 11130 
a. m. carried away raffee. 12 m. raffee carried 
away again. 1130 p. m. set raffee. 6 p. m. 
carried away fore topsail, took it in and set a 
jib topsail as a fore topsail; weather rainy and 
wind moderating; lat. by observation at noon 
46° 42' N., long. 27 0 W.; course N. 74 0 E.; 
distance 274 miles; to Lizard Light 904 miles, 
N. 79 0 E. 

May 28th. 6 a. m. jibed ship and reset fore 

topsail; wind freshening and heavy sea. 6 p. iru 
wind hauled abeam; took in raffee, set ring tail, 
No. 2 jib topsail. 9 p. m. shook reef out of 
mainsail and set main topsail. 11 p. m. signalled 
S. S. New York, bound W.; lat- by observation 
at noon 48° 44' N., long- 21 0 11' W.; distance 
264 miles; course N. 62° E. 

May 29th. 4 a. m. split ring tail and took it 

in. 6 a. m. set balloon jib topsail and balloon 
main topmast staysail; weather fine and very 



162 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


little sea. 7 p. m. rain and light air. 8 p. m. 
took in balloon jib topsail and spinnaker and 
set No. 3 jib topsail; lat. by observation at noon 
48° 59' N., long. 14 0 27' W.; distance 266 miles; 
course N. 87° E. 

May 30th. Weather clear and fine, practi¬ 
cally becalmed all night. 4 a. m. took sounding 
123 fathoms. 5 a. m. jibed over, took in No. 3 
jib topsail and set spinnaker and balloon jib; 
sea smooth, no wind. 8 a. m. took sounding 
84 E.; flat calm all day and night; lat. at noon 
by observation 49 0 7' N., long. io° 44' W.; 
distance 148 miles; course N. 87° E. 

May 31st. 12:30 a. m. light air from South¬ 

ward; jibed over and set all kites. 9 a. m. wind 
freshening, carried away balloon jib topsail and 
set another. 11154 a. m. spoke German steamer, 
she signalled, “Valhalla in long. 6° 51'.” 3:45 

p. m. Bishop’s Rock light abeam. 4 p. m. spoke 
S. S. Lancastrian; reported Valhalla 2 hours 
ahead and American yacht won race, finishing 
Monday night. 6 p. m. set spinnaker. 9 p. m. 
Lizard Light bearing North and race is over; 
lat. at noon by observation 49 0 32’ N., long. 
7 0 24' W.; distance 133 miles; course N. 79 0 E. 



The Logs 


163 


HILDEGARDE 

Two-masted schooner, owned by Edward R. 
Coleman, Esq., Philadelphia Corinthian Yacht 
Club. Guests on board, Frank Platto, A. E. 
Barber, Dr. Robert Lecomte. 

May 17th. Crossed line 12:15 p. m.; fresh 
Easterly breeze and fog. Midnight wind South, 
dense fog. 

May 18th. A. M. baffling winds, confused 
sea. 4 a. m. wind light, hazy. 8 a. m. wind 
steady. 4 p. m. wind hauling Westerly and light. 
Midnight moderate W.S.W. breeze and clear; 
bar. 29.70. Noon position by observation lat 
39 0 32' N., long. 70° W.; course S. 70° E. ; 
distance 202 miles. 

May 19th. A. M. fine throughout and moder¬ 
ate breeze from W.S.W. 8 a. m. similar weather; 
temperature of water 50°, air 54 0 . Noon 
moderate, fine; wind W^S.W. 8 p. m. altered 
course to East by North; fresh Westerly breeze 
and high swell; bar. 29.70, air 59 0 , water 58°. 
Midnight fresh breeze and fine; bar. 29.70. At 



164 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


noon course N. 78° E.; distance 225 miles; lat. 
by observation 40° 15' N., long. 66° 22' W, 

May 20th. A. M, moderate wind and high 
S.W. swell, causing ship to roll and slat. 4 a. m. 
wind veering slightly to Northward of West. 
Noon moderate and fine; bar. 29.75, a * r 68°, 
water 62°; p. m. heavy showers with increasing 
wind from N.W. 4 p. m. nearly calm; wind 
springing up near sunset and backing more 
Westerly. Midnight fine with baffling winds 
from N.W, to W.N.W.; bar. 29.75, air 58°, 
water 54 0 . At noon course N. 67° E.; distance 
192 miles; lat. by observation 41 0 29' N., long. 
62° 30' W. 

May 21st. A. M. moderate Northerly breeze 
and rising; bar. 29.80; constantly making and 
taking in light sail as wind baffled. Noon light 
N.W. and fine; bar. 29.95; P- m. moderate and 
light airs throughout, hazy on horizon; moderate 
West wind. Midnight same condition weather; 
air 45 0 , water 44 0 ; at noon course N. 67° E.; 
distance 230 miles; lat. 43 0 N., long, 58° 22' W. 

May 22d. A. M. moderate Westerly, fine, clear 
overhead and hazy on horizon; bar. 30, air 41 °, 
water 40°. 4 a. m. dense fog; wind S,W.; bar. 
30, air 38°, water 41 °. 8 a. m. fog cleared off; 
observation by sun for chrs.; bar. 30.05. Noon 



The Logs 


165 

steady S.W. breeze and clear; air 56°, water 41 °, 
bar. 30.01. 4 p. m. wind more from West, fine 
and clear; bar. 30.01, air 51 °, water 42 0 ; 
ends with moderate S.W. wind and clear; 
bar. 30.05, air 42°, water 38°* At noon course 
N. 54 0 E.; distance 167 miles; lat by observation 
44 0 38' N., long. 55 0 14' W. 

May 23d. A. M. moderate; wind South, clear 
and fine. 4 a. m. similar weather; bar. 30.05, 
air 39 0 , water 39 0 . 8 a. m* weather continues 

fine, cloudy sky and occasional thin fog; bar. 
30.05, air 40°, water 38°. Noon breeze freshen¬ 
ing; sun obscured; bar. 30, air 40°, water 36°. 
4 p. m. similar weather; bar. 30, air 39 0 , water 
36°. 8 p. m. moderate S.W. and fog; midnight 
similar weather, ban 30.04, air 34 0 , water 32°. 
At noon course N. 52 0 E.; distance 232 miles; 
lat. 47 0 5' N., long. 50° 44' W. 

May 24th. A. M. moderate S.W. and thick 
fog; bar. 30, air 36°, water 32 0 . 4 a. m. wind 
falling, light and dense fog. 6 a. m. passed 
four icebergs, two large and two small. 8 a. m. 
very light air, clear horizon; bar. 30, air 36°, 
water 34 0 ; calm. Noon light breeze springing 
up from E.S.E. 4 p. m. fresh Easterly breeze 
and rain. 6 p. m. similar conditions; bar. 39.80, 
air 39 0 , water 39 0 - 8 p. m. wind increasing and 



166 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


glass falling rapidly; shortened sail. Midnight 
wind South with rain. At noon course N. 66° 
E.; distance 187 miles; lat. by observation 48° 
20' N., long. 46° 28' W. 

May 25th. A. M. overcast with shifting wind. 
4 a. m. wind veering Westerly and moderate and 
rain; bar. 29.40. 8 a-, m. similar conditions. 

Noon moderate Westerly; sky overcast; bar. 
29.25. 2130 p. m. violent squall from North¬ 

ward, settling into hard gale from N.W. and 
continues throughout remainder of day; ship 
running under double-reefed foresail and fore 
staysail; high confused sea running throughout 
day; yacht shipping an occasional sea. Midnight 
wind N.W.; bar. 29.50. At noon course N. 86° 
E.; distance 134 miles; lat. by D. R. 48° 30' N., 
long. 43 0 9' W. 

May 26th. A. M., fresh N.W. gale through¬ 
out, first part with high sea running, using oil 
freely; ship running fairly dry and making good 
weather; bar. 29.50. 8 a. m. similar weather; 

sea running more true; bar. 29.55; observation 
for longitude. Noon sky clear at times; had 
observations for latitude; bar. 29.55, air 48°, 
water 46°. 4 p. m. observation for longitude. 

8 p. m. fresh gale and fine; bar. 29.65; ends with 
fresh gale and passing squalls—9 days from 



The Logs 


167 


Sandy Hook. At noon course S. 89° E.; distance 
203 miles; lat. by observation 48° 28' N., long. 
37 ° 11' W. 

May 27th. A. M., fresh N.W. gale and pass¬ 
ing rain squalls; high sea running. 4 a. m. 
similar weather. 8 a. m. similar weather. Noon 
fresh gale and high swell from N.W.; bar. 29.65, 
air 58°, water 46°. 8 p. m. steady Westerly gale, 
and high sea with occasional rain showers. 
Midnight similar weather; bar. 29.65. At noon 
course N. 83° E.; distance 263 miles; lat. by 
observation 49 0 2' N., long. 30° 32' W. 

May 28th. A. M., continues same weather, 
with passing squalls of rain; ship running under 
squaresail. 4 a. m. similar conditions. 8 a. m. 
set raffees. Noon moderate Westerly gale and 
high sea, passing rain squalls; bar. 29.75. 8 

p. m. similar weather. Midnight wind W.S.W., 
passing showers; bar. 30, air 54 0 , water 54 0 . 
At noon course N. 84° E.; distance 298 miles; 
lat. by D. R. 49 0 33' N., long. 23 0 36' W. 

May 29th. A. M., moderate W.S.W. breeze, 
the first part with passing showers. 4 a. m. 
similar weather, sea running down. 8 a. m. wind 
backed to S.W. Noon moderate and fine, pass¬ 
ing clouds, clear observation; bar. 30.10, air 
6o°, water 54 0 . 8 p. m. wind falling light. 



168 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


Midnight light air of wind, passing rain shower. 
At noon course N. 84° E.; distance 205 miles; 
lat, by observation 49 0 54' N., long. 1 J° 22' W. 

May 30th. A. M., light air from S.W. and 
fine. 8 a. m. similar wind and weather; several 
steamers in sight. Noon fine and warm, light 
baffling air from Westward. 4 p. m. similar 
weather. 8 p. m. wind freshening from South. 
Midnight fresh breeze from South and clear. 
At noon course S. 86° E.; distance 154 miles; 
lat. by observation 49 0 44' N., long. 13 0 23' W. 

May 31st. A. M. fresh breeze from South 
and fine. 8 a. m. similar weather. Noon fresh 
Southerly breeze and fine. 4:15 p. m. sighted 
Bishop’s Rock; 5:30 p. m. Bishop’s Rock Light 
bearing N. by E. ^ E.; distance 4 miles. 7:40 
p. m. Wolf Rock bearing N. by E.; distance 6 
miles. At 10:28:21 p. m. mean time at Green¬ 
wich passed finish line at Lizard. At noon course 
E.; distance 202 miles; lat. by observation 49 0 
44' N., long. 8° 9' W. 

Course from noon observation N. 86° E.; 
distance 115 miles to Lizard; 10:08:21 finish 
time. 



The Logs 


169 


SUNBEAM 

May 17th. At 11 a. m. off Sandy Hook. 
Set all plain sail, large outer jib, fore topsail and 
topgallant sail, main topmast staysail, balloon miz- 
zen topmast staysail and mizzen topsail. Wind 
East, light. 

Keeping clear of the line until the smaller 
and more handy vessels had passed, we rounded 
the committee boat ahead of the Apache, astern 
of all the other vessels. The Valhalla and Utowa- 
na were recalled by the committee. The fore and 
aft vessels, built for racing, drew away rapidly 
after crossing the line, laying two points nearer 
the wind than the square-rigged vessels, and in 
the light breezes of to-day going faster through 
the water. 

At 4 p. m. we had sailed 20 knots. Course 
S.E. by S. From 3 p. m. to 6 p. m., wind fresh¬ 
ening and drawing to the East Northeast. Took 
in balloon sails and fore topgallant sails. 8 p. m., 
wind falling light. At midnight, calm, with 
dense fog, thunder and lightning, and much rain. 

May 18th. Lat. 39 0 32' N., long. 71 0 51' W. 



170 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


Distance run 112 miles. All possible sail carried. 
Topmast and large lower studdingsail set on the 
port side. Weather very fine. Middle watch 
calm, with dense fog, thunder and lightning and 
heavy showers. At 4 a. m. light breeze making 
from North, gradually veering to Northwest. 
At 10:30 a. m., three-masted schooner, supposed 
to be Utowana, sighted to the Southeast. 

May 19th. Lat. 39 0 35' N., long. 67° 32' W. 
Distance run 198 miles. Winds W.S.W. to 
W.N.W., freshening at intervals. Sea moderate, 
weather clear. All possible sail. Topmast and 
lower studdingsails, yard gafT-topsails on main 
and mizzen. Main and mizzen topmast stay¬ 
sails, when wind not too far aft. At 7 p m. 
sighted the Ailsa on port quarter distant three 
miles. Exchanged night signals. Until 6 a. m. 
the following day the Sunbeam fully held 
her own, both vessels maintaining an aver¬ 
age speed of ten knots. At 5 a. m., wind 
moderating, the Ailsa set spinnaker and gradually 
drew ahead, steering a more leewardly course 
than the Sunbeam. Ailsa having been the lead¬ 
ing vessel at the start, it was a surprise, and 
highly encouraging to our crew, to find that the 
Sunbeam had so greatly improved her position 
in the race. 



The Logs 


iyi 

May 20th. Lat. 40° 12' N., long. 62° 49' W. 
Distance run 230 miles. Barometer steady at 
29.80. Course made good East, three-quarters 
North. Wind West to Southwest. Fresh to 
moderate. Heavy showers 6 to 8 a. m. Sea 
smooth. All possible sail has been carried; yard 
gaff-topsails, topmast staysail, jib topsail, stud- 
dingsails, balloon standing jib. 

May 21 st. Lat. 40° 24' N., long. 58° 50' W. 
Distance run 227 miles. Winds from Southwest 
round by West to Northwest. Barometer rising 
from 29.80 to over 30.00. Current as yesterday 
setting to Eastward. From noon till 8 a. m. 
maintained fully 10 knots. In the afternoon, 
rate of sailing from 12 to 10 knots. In the 
evening, wind veering to the Westward squally. 
In the forenoon watch, wind dying away to a 
calm. At 9 p. m. the night signal assigned to the 
Sunbeam by the Starting Committee was made 
to a large steamer steering East, supposed 
National Line. Answered with two blue lights 
and a red light on the bridge, forming a triangle. 
We see no contestants. Assume that they have 
steered a more Northerly course. We are fol¬ 
lowing the one guiding utterance from the New 
York weather office, to the effect that it would 



172 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


be dangerous for the yachts to cross the meridian 
of 50° W., North of latitude 41 °. 

May 22d. Lat. 40° 24' N., long. 55 0 20' W. 
Distance run 117 miles. Barometer 30.05 to 30.30. 
Light breeze from N.N.W. until 4 a. m. Dead 
calm with short swell from S.W. from 4 a. m. 
till noon. While the breeze held, all possible 
sail-. When the wind died away, lowered mainsail 
and main and mizzen topsails for slight repairs. 
A disheartening day for owner and crew, keen to 
make a creditable passage. During ten hours 
out of the twelve only the faintest airs from 
time to time. Steered so as to keep out of the 
trough of the sea, and minimize wear and tear 
and chafe. The high reading of the barometer 
showed clearly that we had lost the favorable 
winds of the last two days. For the next fair 
winds we must look to the Southward and West¬ 
ward, with some fall in the barometer. Evening 
prayers at 4 p. m. according to custom. Well 
attended. 

May 23d. Lat. 41 0 12' N., long. 50° 4' W. 
Distance run 243 miles. All possible sail. Wind 
South. Sea smooth. Gulf Stream gave 20 miles 
of Easting. At 2 p. m. Cunard steamer, supposed 
Lucania, passed to windward, East bound. At 
11 p. m. exchanged signals with Cunard steamer 



The Logs 


173 


going West. In explanation of the term all pos¬ 
sible sail, Sunbeam carries jib topsail, large and 
two smaller flying jibs, balloon standing jib 
fore topmast and lower studdingsails, stand¬ 
ing and balloon main and mizzen topmast 
staysails, jib-headed and yard main and 
mizzen gaff-topsails. There has been no delay 
in setting any sails that could do any good. Our 
sail equipment includes a balloon standing jib, 
bent to the jib stay with hanks, and sheeting 
home abaft the fore rigging. We have found 
this sail most useful. With the prevailing fair 
winds thus far experienced we have derived 
the greatest advantage from the full spread of 
canvas on the foremast, and very specially from 
the studdingsails. In light weather sails add 
at least one to two knots to the speed. Press 
of sail has discovered here and there a weak 
fitting, more suitable for the Solent than for 
racing across the Atlantic. Repairs and refits 
have been made with creditable smartness and 
efficiency by our seamen. Have never sailed 
with a better crew. 

May 24th. Lat. 42 0 57' N., long, 44 0 28' W. 
Distance run 272 miles. Wind South. Barom¬ 
eter 30.25, falling to 29.90. All possible sail 
including balloon sails. The fine run of this 



174 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


day was made with a strong breeze on the beam. 
Sea smooth. We were on the Southern edge of 
a cyclonic movement, travelling North of our 
track to the Northwest and Eastward. The con¬ 
ditions were trying for the fittings too often 
found in yachts. Those who build yachts and 
those who repair them have generally in view 
the conditions prevailing in the Solent. The rough 
service of the open ocean is beyond their ex¬ 
perience. We had been carrying a balloon 
standing jib, the strain of which revealed a weak 
spot. Carried away the screw by which the bob- 
stay is set up at the bowsprit end. This acci¬ 
dent made it necessary to lie to, and to set up the 
bobstay with tackles. Time lost an hour and 
twelve minutes, or a loss in the run for the 
day of probably sixteen knots. We were going 
fully twelve knots. Though travelling at this 
high speed when all sails were full and drawing, 
the breezes seemed quite light when hove to. 

May 25th. Lat. 45 0 30' N., long. 39 0 W. 
Distance run 282 miles. Barometer 29.80. 
Wind veering from S.S.W, to W.S.W. Fresh 
gale, with increasing sea. Observations taken 
for morning sights. Sun clouded at noon. 
Longitude worked by estimated latitude. With 
increasing wind and sea, hauled down two reefs 



The Logs 


175 


in mizzen. Later, furled mizzen. Some minor 
mishaps. Hook of lower block of main throat 
halyards carried away. Spare block promptly 
brought up from boatswain’s store. Main topsail 
sheet carried away. Studdingsails were set 
on the starboard side, as the wind drew aft. 
Taken in more than once when squalls blew too 
hard for flying kites. The crew are working 
well and are always eager for cracking on. 

May 26th. Lat. 46° 42' N., long. 35 0 50' W. 
Distance run 270 miles. Noon to 8 p. m., run¬ 
ning under foresail and mainsail, fore topgal- 
lantsail, fore topsail and squaresaiL Studding- 
sails carried for a short time. At 8 p. m. stowed 
all fore and aft canvas, wind drawing to West¬ 
ward. Ran the direct course, East by South, 
under square canvas. At 9 a. m. sights for 
longitude. No observation for latitude at noon. 
Weather boisterous. Gale veering from S.S.W. 
to W. White Star steamer passed at 6 p. m. 
steering East. Made signals which we were 
unable to read. Too far and too hazy. Evi¬ 
dently referred to one or more contestants which 
she had sighted astern. 

May 27th. Lat. 47 0 48' N., long. 27 0 6' W. 
Distance run 250 miles. Wind W. Fresh gale, 
noon to midnight, moderating later. Running 



176 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


before the wind under square canvas only. 
The advantage of the square rig forward in 
a three-masted schooner was conspicuously 
shown to-day. The force of the wind was suf¬ 
ficient to give at times a speed of eleven knots, 
and averaging ten for the twenty-four hours-. 
From noon till 8 p. m. sea increasing, heavy, 
topping seas coming up continually from astern. 
Broken water coming on board in the waist. 
Oil bags put out on either bow at 8 p. m. Had 
great effect. Log for the last five days shows a 
total distance covered of 1,317 miles, a notable 
performance for a small auxiliary vessel. Not 
having seen any of the contestants since parting 
company with the Ailsa, we continue to make 
comparisons with the best performances on rec¬ 
ord. It is satisfactory to find that the distance 
we have covered exceeds that sailed in the same 
number of days by the Endymion on her record 
passage to Cowes. It should be noted that the 
start for the Atlantic race was made on an un¬ 
favorable day. 

May 28th. Lat. 48° 22' N., long. 21 0 W. Dis¬ 
tance run 246 miles. Barometer rising from 
29.71 to 29.90. From noon to 2 a. m., wind 
W.N.W., a strong breeze, the course being 
E.S.E. Ran under square canvas only, main- 



The Logs 


177 


taining an average speed of ten knots. At 2 a. m. 
wind shifted to W.S.W. Set foresail and main¬ 
sail. At 6 a. m. studdingsails on starboard side 
and jib-headed main topsail. At 7:30 set mizzen 
with single reef. Wind and sea throughout more 
moderate than during the last two stormy days. 

May 29th. Lat. 48° 35' N., long. 14 0 52' W. 
Distance run 242 miles. Commences with strong 
breeze from W.S.W. with high seas and squally 
weather, changing to moderate breeze and fine. 
All plain sail set. Main and mizzen topsails, stud¬ 
dingsails on starboard side. Balloon topmast stay¬ 
sails taken in at night. Weather squally. At 
daylight made more sail. Took in jib-headed 
main and mizzen topsails. Set yard topsails and 
balloon main topmast staysail. Set large lower 
studdingsail. Evening service as usual at 4 p. m., 
with address. On the whole, much the finest 
day since the calm experienced a week ago. 
We have passed through a gale more severe 
than might have been expected in the finest sea¬ 
son of the year. Our competitors in the 
smaller vessels must have had a hard time. 

May 30th. Lat. 48° 50' N., long. 12 0 W. 
Distance run 120 miles. Noon till midnight, 
winds West to W.S.W. baffling, and never 
stronger than a gentle breeze. From midnight 



178 The Race for the Emperor’s Cup 


to noon, calm. Barometer standing at 30.25. 
Twelve hours of calm leave no chance of making 
a record passage. Perhaps we have been beaten 
hollow by several contestants. None seen since 
we parted company with the Ailsa. Our situation 
illustrates the dependence of the issue on causes 
beyond the control of the naval architect, the 
sailmaker, the navigator, the seaman. All the 
arts of progression under sail are unavailing with¬ 
out the propelling power. We have lain sta¬ 
tionary, or nearly so, in a flat calm. The lull 
in the winds was perhaps to be expected after 
a long, and sometimes a very hard blow* 

May 31st. Lat. 49 0 39' N., long. 8° 30' W. 
Distance run 146 miles. Calm from noon till 
10 p. m. Light Southerly airs till midnight, 
gradually increasing to moderate breeze. Ba¬ 
rometer 30.21. During the long calm all fore and 
aft canvas except the mizzen was lowered. 
When, the breeze freshened, all possible sail set. 
At 10 a. m. saw one of the contestants, schooner- 
This day of calm has reduced our 
average daily run from 223 to 210 knots. Hav¬ 
ing been delayed by contrary winds on the start¬ 
ing day and by forty hours of calm, the per¬ 
formance of Sunbeam is highly creditable. 
Arrived off the Lizard at 11 p. m. Distance 



The Logs 


179 


run 125 miles. The passage from Sandy Hook 
had been made in 14 days and 6 hours. Average 
daily run, 213 knots. Total distance covered, 
3,080 knots. 



180 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


FLEUR-DE-LYS 

Two-masted schooner, owned by Dr. Lewis 
A. Stimson, New York Yacht Club. Guests on 
board, Miss Stimson, Eliot Tuckerman and J. B. 
Connelly. Captain, Thomas Bohlin. 

May 17th. Left Sandy Hook Lightship at 
12 :23 p. m., close-hauled on the port tack, carry¬ 
ing all working sails, the baby jib topsail and 
main top staysail. Fog, rain, Easterly wind 4 
p. m, About 5:20 p. m. crossed Endymion’s 
bow one mile to the windward. 

May 18th. Lat, 39 0 56' N., long. 70 0 54' W. 
Miles covered from noon to noon, 140. Wind, 
light shifting from the North through the West 
to the South-South-West. All light sails, balloon 
jib topsails. In the afternoon the sky was over¬ 
cast, the sea smooth. 

May 19th. Lat. 40° 28' 17" N., long. 67° 3' W. 
Miles covered from noon to noon, 180. Wind, 
Westerly, following sea. Blew the foghorn one 
hour. 

May 20th. Lat, 41 0 45' N., long. 53 0 21' W. 
Miles from noon to noon, 182, Winds, light and 



The Logs 


181 


variable, North, West and Southwest during the 
day. A calm for an hour in the afternoon. At 5 
p. m. the wind came fresh from the Northwest. 
All light sails set. The wind held until mid¬ 
night. 

May 21 st. Lat. 42 0 21' N., long. 63° 13' W.; 
miles covered, 17Q. As usual, sails and sprit sails 
set. Light Northwest wind, smooth sea, foghorn 
three hours after 7 p. m. 

May 22d. Lat. 44 0 46' N., long. 56° 21' W.; 
miles covered, 183. Clear, wind West-South¬ 
westerly, light; balloon jib topsail; foghorn 12 to 
2 a. m^ 

May 23d. Lat. 45 0 15' N., long. 50° 30" W. 
Balloon jib topsail, main top staysail until 8 a. m. 
Wind hauled to the Southeast. Southwest cur¬ 
rent has set us back nineteen miles. 

May 24th. Lat. 46° 45' N., long. 47 0 40' W,; 
miles covered, 146. Wind Southeast to North¬ 
east. Heavy gale by night. All working sails 
during the day. Saw a small iceberg at the be¬ 
ginning of the gale. 

May 25th. Lat. 48° 10' N., long. 42 0 25' W.; 
miles covered, 205. Lower sails and fore topsail. 
Took in the mainsail. At 8 a. m. a strong gale 
hauling from the Northeast to the North and 
North-Northwest, Set outer jib and main try- 



182 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


sail in the afternoon. Passed a good-sized ice¬ 
berg at 6 p. m. 

May 26th. Lat. 48° 17' N., long. 37 0 35' W.; 
miles covered, 242* Wind, North-Northwest 
blowing a moderate gale; heavy following sea. 
4 p. m. set the mainsail. Parted outer jib sheet 
at 10 p. m. 

May 27th. Lat. 49 0 2' N., long. 30° 52' W.; 
miles covered, 304. Still very heavy sea; also 
steering a little North of the course to keep the 
mainsail from jibing. Parted jib tackle at I p. m. 
Took in the sail at 9 p. m., and took in the fore¬ 
sail, which had parted its boom and tackle. A 
heavy sea came in at the main rigging at 6 a. m. 
swept the watch aft to the main sheet and broke 
one man’s ribs. Fortunately, got sights, but 
toward evening heavy rain fell, the wind still 
blowing a gale. The sea is very heavy, but we 
are running well, fourteen knots at times. The 
main boom goes into the slings often, and once 
for half its length, Lee side is often full above 
the main ropes. The helmsman has been lashed 
now two days. At 9 p. m. took on sea over the 
port quarter that filled the decks. 

May 28th. Lat. 49 0 23' N., long. 23 0 26' W.; 
miles covered, 293. Wind Westerly, moderating 



The Logs 


183 


in the afternoon. Then set the foresail and both 
topsails. 

May 29th. Lat. 50° 23' 18" N., long. 19 0 38' 
15" W.; miles covered, 183. All light sails. Wind 
Westerly, nearly half and falling, light. 

May 30th. Lat. 50° 18' N., long. 15 0 10' 30" 
W.; miles covered, 172. Light sails; wind light 
and aft. 

May 31st. Lat. 49 0 50' N., long. 9 0 29' W.; 
miles covered, 222. Wind hauled to East, then to 
South and fresh. All working sails out; later, 
the main top staysail. One hundred and seven¬ 
teen miles from Bishop’s Rock, abeam North by 
East at 10:30 Greenwich time. 



184 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


AILSA 

Yawl, owned by Henry S. Redmond, New 
York Yacht Club. Owner represented by Gren¬ 
ville Kane. Guests, Paul Eve Stevenson and 
Henry Reuterdahl. Captain, Lem. Miller. 

May 18th. Start made at 12 115 p. m. at Sandy 
Hook Lightship, log 29. 3 p. m. all sail set; took 
in jib topsail at 3 p. in.; log 4 p. m. 53; light 
wind, rain and fog; log 8 p. m. 81; hove lead 12 
m. 32 fathoms; light sand and black specks; light 
wind and rain, log 98; tacked ship 1:10 a. m., 
log 4; took in mainsail 2 a. m. 7 a. m. took in 
storm trysail and put on all sails; light wind, 
fog and rain. 9 a. m. set jib topsail. 11 a. m. set 
squaresail. 12 m. temperature of water 50° ; light 
wind; log 34. 

May 19th. 4 p. m. took in jib topsail and 

jibed over; temperature of water 51 0 ; log 57; 
light wind, gloomy. 4:45 p. m. took in square- 
sail. 6:30 p. m. put on jib topsail; temperature 
of water 60 0 ; gentle breeze, clear sky. 8145 
p. m. signalled yacht Sunbeam. 12 m. tempera¬ 
ture of water 50°; gentle wind, clear; log 28. 




The Logs 


185 


1 p. m. temperature of water 48°; gentle breeze, 
clear sky; log 61. 4:15 a. m. changed course to 
E.S. ]/2 S. 5:30 a. m. Sunbeam still in sight; 
temperature of water 52 0 ; strong breeze; clear. 
5 130 p. m. put on spinnaker; log 1; temperature 
of water 6o°; strong breeze, clear; log at noon 
40. 

May 20th. 12:15 a. m. broke spinnaker out 

and tore spinnaker asunder; squaresail was set 
after spinnaker was taken in. 3 p. m. took in 
mainsail and set trysail; very strong breeze. 4 
p. m. log 80; very strong breeze. 8 p. m. log 16; 
moderate breeze, clear; log 12 m. 46. 4 a. m. 

took in trysail and hoisted mainsail; light wind, 
clear. 4 a. m. log 72; light wind, clear; all sail 
set. At 8 a. m. log 1. 10:30 a. m. took in No. 
1 jib topsail and set No. 2; strong breeze, clear; 
temperature of water 66°. Log at noon 40. 

May 21 st. 3 p. m. took in mainsail and hoisted 
storm trysail; very strong breeze, squally; log 
83. 6 p. m. took in storm trysail and set mainsail 
and topsail; very strong breeze, squally; log 22s 
9 p. m. wind changed to N.W., jibed over. Mid¬ 
night took in mainsail and hoisted storm trysail; 
log 60*4. 3 a. m. set squaresail; very strong 

breeze, clear; log 93^; strong breeze, clear. 8 



186 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


a. m. took in trysail and set all sails; light wind 
and clear. Log at noon 55. 

May 22d. 3 130 p. m., took in squaresail; light 

wind, clear; log 90^. 5 p. m. hoisted No. 2 

jib topsail; light breeze, fair; log*5^. 8 p. m. 

log 19L2; light breeze, fair. 4 a. m. sighted 
schooner yacht Endymion; light wind, clear, fair. 
9 45 a. m. signalled S. S. St. Louis, bound East; 
temperature of water 64°. Log at noon 3. 

May 23d. 4 p. m. Endymion still in sight 

leaving us; gentle breeze, fair; log 36^; fine 
breeze, clear. 3 p. m. passed steamer, bound East ; 
strong breeze, fair. 8 p. m. signalled steamer, 
bound East; took in jib topsail and gaff topsail; 
strong breeze, clear. 10:30 a. m. sighted iceberg. 
11 a. m. hoisted gaff topsail; very strong breeze, 
clear. 

May 24th. 1 p. m. signalled steamer, bound 

East; hoisted No. 3 jib topsail. 2 p. m. passed 
same iceberg in lat. 40° 35' N., long. 49 0 12' W. 
6 p. m. took in gaff and jib topsail; passed Eng¬ 
lish steamer, bound West; showing letters 
A.J.E.D. 7 p. m. took 2 reefs in mainsail; tem¬ 
perature of water 56°. 12 m. very strong breeze, 
clear; temperature of water 64°. 1 a. m. strong 
breeze. 7 a. m. strong breeze, gloomy. 10 a. m. 



The Logs 


187 


set full mainsail. 11 a. m. temperature of water 

6 4 °. 

May 25th* 1 p. m. strong breeze, overcast. 

7 p. m. set squaresail. 8 p. m. took in gaff top¬ 
sail and mainsail and set storm trysail; moderate 
gale; occasional rkin. 11 p. m. moderate gale, 
overcast. 3 a. m. moderate gale, overcast. 7 
a. m. moderate gale, overcast. 10 a. m. strong 
gale, overcast; high S.W. sea. 

May 26th. 1 p. m. strong gale, overcast; 

high sea. 5 p. m. took in squaresail and jib. 
6130 p. m. hoisted squaresail; strong breeze, 
high sea. 10 p. m. took in squaresail and set 
jib and staysail; moderate breeze, overcast. 2 
a. m. strong breeze, overcast. 5 a. m. gale, high 
N*W. sea and squalls. 8 a. m. set squaresail; 
strong gale, very high N.W. sea. 

May 27th. 12 noon took in squaresail and 

jib, and hove to on account of not being able to 
run any longer; sighted two floating logs. 2 
p. m. sighted Hamburg-American Line S. S. 
Pretoria; strong gale and rain squalls. 8 p. m. 
hoisted fore staysail and bore off before wind, 
steering E.S.E. 12 p. m. gale with rain squalls, 
very high N.W. sea. 2 a. m. moderate gale with 
strong wind squalls and rain; high N.W. sea. 



188 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


8 a. m. hoisted jib; strong breeze, high sea. n 
a. m. set squaresail; moderate sea and wind. 

May 28th. 1 p. m. moderate high sea still 

running. 6 p. m. same conditions. 9 p. m. moder¬ 
ate breeze with squalls and rain; high N.W. sea. 
1 a. m. moderate breeze with rain squalls; high 
N.W. sea. 6 a. m. moderate high sea. 10 a. m. 
moderate breeze; high N.W. sea. 

May 29th. 1 p. m. moderate breeze, fair; 
high N.W. sea. 5 p. m. light breeze; moderating 
sea. 8 p. m. hoisted mainsail and gaff topsail, 
up. m. moderate breeze, fair. 12 m. spinnaker 
pole and spinnaker repaired. 2 a. m. gentle 
breeze, overcast. 4 a. m, passed and signalled 
North German Lloyd steamer, bound West. 
10 a. m. passed American Line steamer, bound 
West. 11 a. m. took in squaresail and set spin¬ 
naker No. 1 jib topsail. 

May 30th. 2 p. m. passed American Line 
steamer, bound West. 3 P* m. carried away 
spinnaker; took in No. 1 jib topsail and set it as 
spinnaker; light breeze, fair. 10:30 p. m. sig¬ 
nalled a Red Star Line S. S., bound West; very 
light wind. 4 a. m. Utowana in sight, slowly 
leaving us. 9 a. m. wind freshening; leaving 
Utowana slowly. 



The Logs 


189 


May 31st. 4 p. m. Utowana still in sight; 
gentle breeze, fair. 5 p. m. passed steamer, 
bound West; strong breeze. 4 a. m. strong 
breeze, cloudy. 

June 1st. 2 p. m. soundings 92 fathoms. 
12 noon reefed mainsail; very strong breeze. 
6 p. m, set full mainsail. 7 p. m. soundings 58 
fathoms. 9 :30 p. m. sighted Bishop Light N.E. 
by N. 23 miles off. 12 midnight bearing N.N.W. 
y 2 W. 11 miles off. 1:20 a. m. passed Wolf 
Rock. 3 a. m. set spinnaker; very light wind. 
4:39:32 a. m. Lizard bearing N. 



190 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


UTOWANA 

Three-masted schooner, owned by Allison V. 
Armour, New York Yacht Club. Guests, J. L. 
Mott, Jr., and Wm. Williams. Captain, J. H. 
Crawford. 

May 18th. Lat. 39 0 27' N., long. 71 0 48' W.; 
run 112 miles; wind Easterly; fog, sea smooth, 
working sails, jib topsail, topmast staysails. 

May 19th. Lat. 39 0 28' N., long. 67° 55' W. ; 
run 180 miles; light breeze, Westerly sea, smooth; 
long fore and mizzen squaresail and raffee. 

May 20th. Lat. 39 0 25' N., long. 63° 36' W.; 
run 184 miles; clear, stiff Westerly breeze, sea 
rough; fore and mizzen squaresails and raffees. 

May 25th. Lat. 43 0 31' Ns, long. 40° 48' W.; 
run 292 miles; overcast, heavy rain, squalls, 
strong Westerly winds, rough cross sea-. Fore- 
and-aft squaresails. Best twenty-four hours , 
run, from 10 a. m. May 24th, to 10 a. m., May 
25th, 299^ miles. 

May 26th. Lat. 44 0 39' N., long. 35 0 40' W.; 
run 233 miles. Overcast, rain squalls, strong 
Northwest winds, rough sea. Working canvas* 



The Logs 


191 

May 28th. Lat. 47 0 57' N., long. 24 0 12' W.; 
run 233 miles. Weather the same, wind fresh, 
Westerly. At 10:30 a. m. passed a floating spar 
with wreckage attached. 

May 30th. Lat. 49 0 18' N., long. 16 0 28' W.; 
run 114 miles. Clear, light Westerly breezes; all 
available canvas* At daylight sighted Ailsa on 
the port quarter about three miles astern. At 
noon Ailsa was slightly abaft beam. At dark 
Ailsa was six miles ahead directly on our course. 

May 31st. Lat. 49 0 40' N., long. io° 3' W.; 
run 253 miles. Hazy sea. At 9150 p. m. sighted 
Bishop’s Rock Light. June 1st, passed the 
Lizard at 4:15 a. m. Time of the voyage, 14 
days, 10 hours and 15 minutes. Average knots 
per day, 215; ditto per hour, 8.96. 



192 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


THISTLE 

Two-masted schooner, Robert E. Todd, Esq., 
owner, Atlantic Yacht Club. 

May 17th. Crossed the line about 12 :i8 p. m., 
close-hauled on port tack, under all working 
sails; Easterly winds and foggy weather. About 
5 p. m. dense fog set in and we kept foghorn 
going regularly. About 11 p. m. we tried to 
tack ship, finally compelled to “wear” round. 
Course E. by N. with wind about S.E.; barometer 
29.71. 

May 18th,. Lat. 39 0 50' N., long. 71 0 18' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 128. This day 
began with light S.E. wind; at 2 a. m. came out 
from the N.W., and cleared up. About 5 p. m. 
got foggy again and remained so until 9 p. m. 
and cleared up nicely about 11 p. m.; barometer 
from 29.64 to 29.55. 

May 19th. Lat. 41 0 7' N., long. 67° 38' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 180; fresh 
Westerly breeze and clear weather. At 4 p. m. 
we passed close to a wreck, evidently a dismantled 



The Logs 


193 


brigantine. All afternoon the weather was clear 
with light W.S.W. wind; barometer from 29.60 
to 29.54. 

May 20th. Lat. 42 0 15' N., long, 64° 10' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 172. This day 
commenced with light W. by S. wind and clear 
weather; got cloudy and rained a little about 
noon. We jibed ship about 6:30 a. m. and again 
at noon. About 2 p. m. we spoke steamer Crose- 
more; she reported having passed some icebergs 
in lat. 42 0 N. and long. 50 0 W,, and also having 
had heavy fog; barometer from 29.66 to 29.54. 

May 21 st. Lat. 43 0 15' N., long. 6o° 50' 
W.; miles covered from noon to noon 167. This 
day commenced with fresh W. by N. wind and 
continued so all the morning, but by noon it 
cleared up; barometer from 29.92 to 29.66. 

May 22d. Lat. 44 0 i' N., long. 56° 50' W,; 
miles covered from noon to noon 183; barometer 
from 30.02 to 29.92. This day commenced with 
nice Westerly breeze and clear weather and re¬ 
mained so until about 6 a. m. About 5 p. m. 
weather began to get colder. 

May 23d, Lat. 45 0 23' N., long. 51 0 33' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 240; barometer 
from 30.00 to 29.97. This day commenced with 
travelling mist and cloudy. About noon it cleared 





194 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


up a little. In the afternoon fog set in again 
thick and wind got light and shifted to West. 

May 24th. Lat. 45 0 30' N., long. 48° 45' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 122; barometer 
from 29.99 to 29.41. This day commenced with 
light W.S,W. breeze; foggy, cloudy weather. 
About 2 p. m. we ran into drift ice. At 3 130 
p. m. we passed a piece of an iceberg about 40 
or 50 feet long and 5 or 6 feet out of water. At 
4 p. m. we stood North on starboard tack as we 
had left warmer water to the North. 

May 25th. Lat. 46° 10' N., long. 46° 20' W. ; 
miles covered from noon to noon 105; barometer 
from 29.73 to 29.45. This day commenced with 
strong N.E. wind and rain squalls. In the after¬ 
noon came out strong N. by W. At 7 p. m. 
passed two fishing schooners anchored on the 
Flemish Cap with storm trysails set. 

May 26th. Lat. 47 0 20' N., long. 40° 25' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 262; barometer 
from 29.70 to 29.63. This day commenced with 
N.N.W. wind, with rain and hail. At 4 a. m. 
we ran into the Gulf Stream. At 7145 p. m. we 
had a very heavy squall with hailstones. 

May 27th. Lat. 47 0 5/ N., long, 34 0 50' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 234; barometer 
from 29.73 to 29.69. This day commenced with 



The Logs 


195 


strong N.N.W. wind and dry squalls. About 
10:30 we passed a bark “hove to” on the star¬ 
board tack under jib and trysail. At 11 p. m. 
we double-reefed the foresail. 

May 28th- Lat. 48° 13' N., long. 28° 15' 
W.; miles covered from noon to noon 260; 
barometer from 29.89 to 29.71. This day 
commenced with N.W. by W. wind. About 6 
a. m. steamer passed to the North of us, bound 
West. At 1 p. m. we shook the reefs out of the 
foresail; the wind going round toward North. 
So finished up this day with cloudy weather and 
heavy sea running. 

May 29th, Lat. 48° 50' N., long. 22 0 54' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 210; barometer 
29.89. This day commenced with fresh W.N.W. 
breeze and cloudy weather; heavy sea running. 
At 9 a. m. took in spinnaker and set the star¬ 
board studdingsail. The rest of the forenoon 
spent drying sails. At 7:30 p. m. we set the 
foresail. At 8 p. m. set the mainsail. At 9 p. m. 
took in the studdingsail and set jib and flying jib. 

May 30th. Lat. 49 0 2' N., long. 17 0 57' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 202; barometer 
from 32.12 to 30.06. This day commenced with 
light Southerly breeze and cloudy weather and 
remained so until about daylight. At 4:30 a. m. 



196 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


a Holland Line steamer passed us, bound West, 
too far off to signal. At 1 p. m. we sighted a 
three-masted schooner, bound East. 

May 31st. Lat. 49 0 21' N., long. io° 45' W.; 
miles covered from noon to noon 289; barometer 
from 30.04 to 30.02. This day commenced with 
fresh South wind and cloudy weather. In the 
forenoon we passed a square-rigged vessel (a 
large four-masted bark, bound West) and one 
steam trawler. In the afternoon the wind was 
still strong from the South, but the weather got 
cloudy and nasty. From 2 until 6 p. m. we made 
55 knots (an average of 13^ knots per hour), 
and from 12 noon until 8 p. m. we made 108 
knots (an average for 8 hours of 13^2 knots per 
hour). At 10 p. m. we set the working jib top¬ 
sail, the wind coming more on the quarter. From 
midnight of the 30th to this midnight (about 
23 hours and 40 minutes) Thistle sailed 303 
knots. 

June 1st. Miles covered from noon to noon 
226, with Lizard’s Lighthouse bearing North; 
barometer 30.02. This day commenced with fresh 
S.W. breeze and nasty thick rain squalls, but 
cleared a little about 2 a. m., when we sailed 
through a large fleet of fishing boats; the wind 
was getting very light and the tide on the ebb. 



The Logs 


197 


Observation at 8 a. m. showed us in longitude 
5° 15' W., so we hauled in log and found same 
had fouled with seaweed and line had got a kink 
in it over the rotator; immediately clewed up 
squaresail and took in raffee and headed up 
N.N.E. course, but tide being strong ebb we 
made the land about four miles to the West of 
the Lizard, and passed the Lizard Lighthouse 
bearing true North at 12:44 Chron., Greenwich 
time, when signal station answered our signals. 



198 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


SUMMARY OF THE RACE 



Finish 

Greenwich Time 

Elapsed 

Atlantic. 


9.16 p. m. 

12.04.OI 

Hamburg . . . . 


7.22 “ 

13.02.06 

Valhalla. 


8.08 “ 

14.02.53 

Endymion . . . . 


9.34 “ 

14.04.19 

Hildegarde . . . 

. May 31 

10.08 “ 

14 . 04.53 

Sunbeam . . . . 


II.40 “ 

14.06.25 

Fleur-de-Lys . . 

.June 1 

2.48 a. m. 

I 4 . 09.33 

Ailsa. 


4.25 “ 

14.II.IO 

Utowana . . . . 


5.06 “ 

14.II.51 

Thistle. 


12.44 p. m. 

14.19.29 

Apache. 


10.20 a. m. 

18.17.05 


Atlantic beat the Hamburg 22h. 5m.; Valhalla id. 
22h. 52m.; Endymion 2d. 18m., Hildegarde 2d. 52m.; 
Sunbeam 2d. 2h. 24m.; Fleur-de-Lys 2d. 5h. 32m.; Ailsa 
2d. 7h. 9m.; Utowana 2d. 7h. 50m.; Thistle 2d. 15I1. 
28m.; Apache 6d I3h. 4m. 


Name 

L.w.l. Beam 
Rig Ft. Ft. 

Dr’ht 

Ft. 

Country 

Atlantic* . 

. 3-M’t Sch. 

139 

30 

16.5 

United States 

Valhalla* . 

Ship 

208 

37 

18 

Great Britain 

Utowana* 

. 3-M’t Sch. 

155 

28 

14.5 

United States 

Hildegarde 

. 2-M’t Sch. 

106 

26 

17 

United States 

Ailsa . . . 

. Yawl 

89 

26 

17 

United States 

Thistle . . 

. 2-M’t Sch. 

no 

28 

14 

United States 

Endymion 

. 2-M’t Sch. 

IOI 

24 

14 

United States 

Hamburg. 

. 2-M’t Sch. 

116 

24 

17 

Germany 

Apache* . 

. Bark 

168 

28 

16.5 

United States 

Fleur-de-Lys 2-M’t Sch. 

86 

22 

13.5 

United States 

Sunbeam* 

. Top’l Sch. 

159 

28 

15 

Great Britain 


*Auxiliary steam. Propeller detached and secured on 
deck during race. Engines sealed. 












POSITIONS AND DAILY RUNS 





Positions and Daily Runs 


201 


ATLANTIC 


May 17 

Lat. N. 

Long. W. 

Dist. 

18 

3940 

70.32 

165 

19 

40.14 

65-37 

222 

20 

4045 

60.38 

229 

21 

41.09 

5440 

271 

22 

41.24 

52.12 

112 

23 

42.30 

46.57 

243 

24 

44-57 

39-50 

34 i 

25 

46.33 

33-30 

282 

26 

47.58 

26.48 

279 

27 

48.56 

20.53 

243 

28 

49.52 

13.06 

309 

29 

49.48 

5-59 

282 

30 


To Lizard 

35 


Total, 3013 







202 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


HAMBURG 

Lat. N. Long. W. Dist. 
May 17 12:15 Sandy Hook L. V. from N. to Ns 


18 

39-39 

71.01 

142 

19 

39-48 

66.20 

216 

20 

39-54 

6 i .35 

219 

21 

39-49 

56.13 

247 

22 

39-53 

52.42 

169 

23 

40.25 

49.19 

160 

24 

42.38 

43-21 

303 

25 

44-54 

37-03 

306 

26 

47-15 

3 I. 3 I 

272 

27 

49.26 

26.09 

253 

28 

49-54 

18.41 

292 

29 

49-59 

10.35 

312 

30 

49.46 

6.13 

161 


To the finishing line 

4 i 

Passed Lizard 7 \2y p. 

m. Gr. time 
Total, 

3093 




Positions and Daily Runs 


203 


.VALHALLA 



Lat. N. 

Long. W. 

Dist. 

18 

39-19 

72.30 

136 

19 

39.20 

68.18 

162 

20 

39-40 

63-56 

225 

21 

39-42 

59-04 

256 

22 

39-54 

55-19 

184 

23 

40.44 

50.25 

240 

24 

42.18 

44-39 

287 

25 

44.00 

37-58 

310 

26 

45-25 

32.12 

289 

27 

47.24 

26.06 

278 

28 

48-33 

19.19 

280 

29 

48.55 

1^-35 

278 

30 

31 

49-35 

8.50 

156 

88 


Total, 3169 






204 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


ENDYMION 


May 18 

Lat. N. 

39-44 

19 

39-46 

20 

39-54 

21 

39-58 

22 

40.00 

23 

40.40 

24 

41-59 

25 

44.06 

26 

45-26 

27 

46.42 

28 

48.44 

29 

48.59 

30 

49.07 

3 i 

49-32 


Average to Lizard 9.03 


Long. W. 

Dist. 

70.39 

150 

66.22 

200 

61.41 

214 

56.22 

243 

55.05 

59 

49-39 

253 

44,27 

246 

38.31 

291 

33-02 

246 

27.00 

274 

21 .II 

264 

I4.27 

266 

IO.44 

148 

7.24 

133 

To Lizard 

90 

Total, 

3077 



Positions and Daily Runs 


205 


HILDEGARDE 



Lat. N. 

Long. W. 

Dist. 

18 

39-32 

70.00 

202 

19 

40.15 

66.22 

225 

20 

41.29 

62.30 

192 

21 

43.00 

58.22 

230 

22 

44-38 

55-14 

167 

23 

47-05 

50.44 

232 

24 

48.20 

46.28 

187 

25 

48.30 

43-09 

134 

26 

48.28 

37 -n 

203 

27 

49.02 

30.32 

263 

28 

49-33 

23-36 

298 

29 

49-54 

17.22 

205 

30 

49-44 

13-23 

154 

31 

49-44 

8.09 

202 

I 


To Lizard 

US 



Total, 

3009 




206 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


SUNBEAM 


May 18 

Lat. N. 

39-32 

19 

39-35 

20 

40.12 

21 

40.24 

22 

40.24 

23 

41.12 

24 

42.57 

25 

45-30 

26 

46.42 

27 

4748 

28 

48.22 

29 

48.35 

30 

48.50 

3 i 

49-39 

11 p. m. 



Long. W. 

Dist. 

7 i- 5 i 

112 

67.32 

198 

62.49 

230 

58.50 

227 

55-20 

117 

50.04 

243 

44.28 

272 

38.58 

282 

33-05 

270 

27.06 

250 

21.00 

246 

14.52 

242 

12.00 

120 

8.30 

146 

125 

Total, 

3080 




Positions and Daily Runs 


20 7 


FLEUR-DE-LYS 


17 

Lat. N. 

Long. W. 

Dist. 

18 

39-56 

70.54 

140 

19 

40.28 

67.03 

180 

20 

41-45 

63.21 

182 

21 

42.21 

60.13 

170 

22 

44.46 

56.21 

183 

23 

45-15 

50.00 


24 

46.45 

47.40 

146 

25 

. 48.10 

42.25 

205 

26 

48.17 

37-35 

242 

27 

49.02 

30.52 

304 

28 

49-23 

23.26 

293 

29 

50-23 

19.38 

183 

30 

50.18 

i 5 - IQ 

172 

31 

I 

49-50 

9.29 

To Lizard 

222 







2 o 8 The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


AILSA 


May 17 

Lat. N. 

Long. W. 

Dist. 

18 

39-44 

71.48 

98 

19 

39-40 

67.18 

229 

20 

39.21 

63.11 

192 

21 

39-33 

58.49 

204 

22 

39-46 

55 . i 6 

144 

23 

40.39 

49-36 

243 

24 

41.50 

44.11 

245 

25 

43*53 

39.10 

250 

26 

44-59 

34.50 

226 

27 

46.11 

30.43 

162 

28 

47.29 

25.11 

217 

29 

48.49 

20.00 

218 

30 

49.18 

16.19 

136 

3i 

49-37 

9.44 

250 

June 1 

49-49 

3-36 

231 


Total, 3045 







Positions and Daily Runs 


20Q 


UTQWANA 



Lat. N. 

Long. W. 

Dist. 

18 

39-27 

71,48 

112 

19 

39.28 

67-55 

180 

20 

39-25 

63-56 

184 

21 

39-24 

58.50 

236 

22 

39-13 

55 -n 

171 

23 

40.16 

5 o-1 7 

233 

24 

41.05 

46.29 

180 

25 

43-31 

4O.48 

292 

26 

44*39 

35-40 

233 

27 

46.50 

29-37 

286 

28 

47-57 

24.12 

233 

29 

48.55 

19.18 

205 

30 

49.18 

16.28 

114 

3 i 

49.40 

10.03 

253 

1 


To Lizard 

189 



Total, 

3101 




2io The Race for the Emperor's Cup 


THISTLE 



Lat. N. 

Long. W. 

Dist. 

18 

39-50 

71.18 

128 

19 

41.07 

67.38 

180 

20 

42.15 

64.10 

172 

21 

43-15 

60.50 

167 

22 

44.01 

56.50 

183 

23 

45-23 

51-33 

240 

24 

45-30 

4845 

122 

25 

46.10 

46.20 

105 

26 

47.20 

40.25 

262 

27 

47-57 

34-50 

234 

28 

48.13 

28.15 

260 

29 

48.50 

22.54 

210 

30 

49.02 

17-57 

202 

3 i 

49.21 

10.45 

289 

1 


To Lizard 

226 



Total, 

2980 




Positions and Daily Runs 


211 


AFTER AN EXHAUSTIVE SEARCH WE ARE OBLIGED 
TO GO TO PRESS WITHOUT A COPY OF 
THE APACHE’S LOG 




ATLANTIC 












































HAMBURG 



















































♦ 


VALHALLA 


































































































































































































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CHART SHOWING TRACK OF FASTEST PASSAGE ACROSS THE WESTERN OCEAN BY YACHTS. 
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